To Die for the Republic
by AwayOHumanChild
Summary: Sabé is an ordinary woman who just so happens to be a handmaiden to Padmé Amidala. And she likes her job. She does. But, well, she'd probably like her job more if people would stop trying to kill her and the senator. Because almost dying? That's just getting annoying.
1. Prologue

**A/N: WARNING(S)! This story will be slow moving. This story will also be AU—not vastly AU, but AU nonetheless. This story is also a sequel. The first story, **_**To Save the Queen**_**, does not need to be read in order to understand this one, but it would flesh things out. **_**To Save the Queen**_** corresponds with **_**The Phantom Menace**_**. **_**To Die for the Republic**_** roughly corresponds with **_**Attack of the Clones**_**. (To everyone who read the first one: Hi! Glad you're back! To everyone new: Hi! Glad you're here!)**

**Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. Sweet Christabel made the fantastic cover image.  
**

_To Die for the Republic_

_Prologue:_

"Weren't you scared you were going to die?"

Anakin Skywalker and I were sitting in a tiny office in the palace of Naboo, exchanging battle stories.

"Oh, silly, Anakin," I teased him gently. "Why would I be afraid of dying? I'm only fifteen. I won't die until I'm eighteen."

Anakin laughed. "What?" He shook his head at me. "That doesn't make any sense, Sabé. You purposely made a whole bunch of battle droids chase after you and you weren't scared because you're not gonna die until you're eighteen? That's stupid."

It wasn't, actually. I had it on quite good authority that I wouldn't die until I was eighteen. Then, unless I played the klutz, I was going to end up deader than a doornail.

However, I wasn't going to explain my dreams about the girl who had burned to him.

"Oh, yeah?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "Then tell me, oh wise one. Were you scared when you accidentally flew into a Trade Federation Droid Control Ship?"

"No," Anakin answered immediately.

"And why not?"

"Because…because I wasn't," Anakin shrugged. "I don't know."

"You know," I told him seriously, "I don't think that makes much more sense than my answer did."

Anakin stared at me for a moment and then reluctantly nodded. "Guess not."

I sighed and then looked down at the list sitting on my desk. There were still seventeen families left to contact.

I took a moment to glare down at my badly blistered feet—if it weren't for them, after the Battle of Theed, I probably wouldn't have been stuck contacting the families of the dead, and trying to find ways to transport the dead bodies home. Instead, Padmé could have assigned me to traveling the country side and taking in the damages away from the capitol city, like she had Rabé; or had me working with Governor Bibble to assess the damages in Theed, like she had Eirtaé.

Instead, I was stuck here, telling mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, that their loved one had died freeing Naboo from the Trade Federation. That their loved one was a hero and that I was so sorry for their loss and how would you like us to send your loved one home to you?

"Sabé?" Anakin interrupted my increasingly glum thoughts.

I looked up at him expectantly.

He shifted a little bit uncomfortably. "Sabé, do you ever…" he hesitated and then spit the rest of his question out in a rush, "do you ever have nightmares?"

I stared at him. Unwillingly, I thought of the Yellow Man and Blue-Eyes and all of the other guards and pilots who had died in defense of the girl they thought was their Queen—the girl they didn't realize was only me, only a decoy. I thought of Master Jinn's peaceful face as he had lain on the floor of the generator room, dead. I thought of the Neimoidians whose lives I had ended and futures I had destroyed. All of their faces haunted my dreams.

I thought of the nightmares I'd had on Tattooine: of Yané and Saché being tortured, Theed burning, my people starving.

Then, I thought of the dreams I had when I was ten years old. I thought of the little girl who had told me that she had burned, that Naboo had burned, that the future was a horrible place. I thought of her telling me that I would die when I was only eighteen.

I thought of the imbalance she had spoken of and of how she'd told me that I was important and that if I was strong enough and good enough and if I listened well enough, I could save her and maybe even the galaxy. How she had implied that if I wasn't good enough, the galaxy would fall to darkness. I thought of her scared eyes and the burning children that had kept me awake at night for years.

"Yes, Anakin. Yes, I have nightmares."

**Expected Update Time: Before 10/21/12**


	2. Hurt

_To Die for the Republic  
_

_Part I: In Which Sabé Almost Dies_

Chapter 1: Hurt

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Okay, I thought muzzily, as I continued to hear steady beeping, that was going to get really old, really fast.

Deciding that the best way to get the irritating beeping to stop was to open my eyes and inform someone of how annoying it was, I worked up my energy and forced my eyelids upwards.

After blinking a bit, I could clearly see the white tiled ceiling above me.

It was then that I noticed the sickly sweet taste in my mouth—the taste usually left behind by bacta tanks.

I resisted the urge to groan.

I was probably in a medcenter.

I really hated medcenters.

"Oh, wonderful," a soft voice announced. "You're awake."

I turned towards the voice and saw a young Mon Calamari doctor looking at me. Which was odd, because there really weren't that many Mon Calamaris on Naboo.

Nonetheless, I tried to smile at her. It was harder than I thought it would be, with my face feeling a little stiff from what was probably dried bacta.

"I am Doctor Manru, Miss Reccen. I've been in charge of your care since you arrived," the doctor informed me evenly as she went about checking a number of machines and then taking my pulse.

"Nice to meet you?" I croaked a little uncertainly.

I wasn't really sure what the proper protocol was for waking up in an unknown medcenter and being introduced to the doctor who had probably saved my life. I briefly wished that my friend and fellow handmaiden, Eirtaé, was with me—undoubtedly, she would know. Eirtaé knew everything about etiquette.

I wondered how she would recommend I go about asking which medcenter I was at or, I realized with a jolt, what had put me there.

I couldn't remember.

I couldn't—I couldn't remember anything _at all_.

I—did I have amnesia? Did I—Don't be silly, Sabé, I scolded myself.

No panicking. Take this through one step at a time.

Okay.

My name was Sabé Reccen. I was a handmaiden to Queen Amidala. I was also her Decoy and had been for the past three years. I was…I remembered getting dressed as the Queen and feeling really nervous about it because…because…because I had to give a speech about the newly passed Predator law. That was it! I was giving the speech because Captain Panaka, the head of security, was worried about some extremist activists who had anonymously delivered threats to the Queen.

I was even more nervous, because it sounded like a dream I'd had when I was little.

But I'd gotten dressed and ready, memorized the speech that Padmé wanted me to give and then stepped out of the palace. Only… Only while I walking down the steps to where I was going to give my speech, I had dropped my purse.

I'd bent to pick it up and… and a blaster bolt had flown over my head.

Someone had tried to kill me.

In fact… it all came back in a rush.

I remembered Panaka shouting and my fellow handmaidens pulling out their blasters while the crowd had panicked. I remembered two women rushing at me, one firing her blaster, the other swinging a vibroblade and they were charging down security and I was trying to pull out my own blaster, but it had gotten tangled in my skirts and then someone had been yelling at me to run, and I was trying to, but I—I got hit in the leg with a blaster bolt by one of the women, and then the other one had come charging at me with her vibroblade, screaming like a maniac and—and then—

"Miss Reccen? Miss Reccen! Miss Reccen, are you listening to me?"

"I—sorry," I shook my head a bit to clear it and then stopped almost immediately. My brain felt like it was sloshing around in my skull and I couldn't say I liked the feeling. "Sorry," I repeated, giving Dr. Manru an apologetic smile. "You were saying?"

She sighed and then repeated herself. "I said that you were shot three times—once in your right thigh, once in your shoulder and once in your left hip. You were also slashed by a vibrobrade across your stomach. You are extremely lucky to be alive right now, Miss Reccen."

I stared at her and then opened my mouth to say something, anything, but before I could, Dr. Manru continued.

"You received some emergency treatment on your home planet of Naboo. However, it was decided by Queen Amidala and the doctors who had been treating you that you really needed better facilities if you were ever to completely recover. So, about a week and a half ago, they had you transferred here. You are at Fillorean's Medcenter, in Galactic City on Coruscant."

"Coruscant?" My head was whirling.

"We've had you in a bacta tank and in bacta therapy for the past week. It was a little touch and go for a while, but, as you can see, we have you stabilized. While the bacta did work wonders, you will probably need to stay here for at least another four weeks, if not a little longer. Queen Amidala has requested that you receive therapy here as well, so that you will, hopefully, be able to resume your full duties as a royal Naboo handmaiden once you're released," Dr. Manru calmly informed me. "Do you have any questions?"

"I—" I had so many questions chasing around in my head I didn't even know where to start.

"No? Wonderful. In that case, the Queen requested that you contact her as soon as you are able. I do believe that you can probably stand talking to her for a little bit right now. I'll have one of the nurses come in, clean you off and make you presentable before calling her."

And then she walked off.

I gaped after her.

_Beep._

_Beep._

I resisted the urge to scream with much difficulty.

_Beep._

_Beep._

"Alright," a grumpy female human strode into my room. "Let's get this over with."

"Uh…"

She didn't give me time to respond. Instead, she stalked over to me and, with no advance warning, supported my back and swung my legs off my bed.

Pain shot from my hip and my thigh up and down both my legs. I bit back a curse. This wasn't very fun.

The grumpy woman forced one of my arms over her shoulder—I bit my lip to keep back a groan—and then she began to count.

"One—Two—Three—and up." She hauled me to my feet.

I very nearly fell over, reflexively tightening my grip on the grumpy woman, only to let out a string of the worst curses I knew as I hurriedly loosened my grip. My legs were not supporting me and the arm the grumpy woman had flung over her shoulders was clearly attached to my injured shoulder.

I had no idea what this woman was doing, but I didn't like it.

At all.

In fact, I was starting to think there was a possibility that I might just pass out from her less than gentle transportation technique.

"What—" I let out another furious string of curses under my breath as the woman proceeded to drag me across the room towards the door to the fresher, "do you think—" She bashed my other shoulder into a wall and the world went black for a bit. That was when I decided enough was enough.

This was not working.

Summoning what little energy I had, I forced my poor leg over to the side and hooked it into the grumpy woman's. Then, I leaned all my weight away from her and both of us went crashing to the ground.

The world faded away. By the time it came back into focus, I was aware of both of my legs, my stomach and my shoulder practically screaming in pain. Next to me, the grumpy woman was yelling at me furiously, seemingly cursing me out.

That galvanized me into action.

"Look, lady," I panted as I tried to stay as still as possible in hopes of the pain going away. "That… wasn't working. I've… been shot three… times and had my…"I swore, "stomach ripped… open." I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, the pain in my shoulder and my right leg starting to dull into an ache. My stomach and left hip, though, were still decidedly not happy with me. "We're… _not_ going to be… doing that rubbish… 'Let me… drag you around, completely ignoring… your pain because I… hate my job' crap… again. Got it? That's not… not going to… to fly."

"Who do you think you are, trying to tell me how to do my job?" The woman demanded, sounding outraged.

"The poor soul… who was inflicted… with you," I snapped out between gasps.

Everything hurt.

And the annoying beeping still had not stopped.

"Now… listen here," I forced myself to turn my head so I could look at the outraged woman, "I don't want to be… a huge pain… but if you could get a… a power chair or… something, maybe… we could try this again. And by 'if' I really… mean 'when' because if you think… I'm letting you drag me again, you are… sadly delusional!"

She gaped at me.

If I hadn't been in so much pain, I probably would have felt a little guilty for going off on her like that.

But as it happened, I really hurt and she had not helped. So, I just stared at her.

After a moment of spluttering at me incoherently, she ran off, presumably to do as I had asked. Or demanded, really, but I was in pain! Demands were sort of acceptable then, I rationalized.

Even if I had been really rude, and had insulted her. Quite a bit, actually. Not to mention the fact that instead of just telling her that I was in pain and maybe we should try moving me a different way, I had made her trip, drop me and had then scared her into getting me a power chair.

As I laid on the ground, listening to that incessant beeping, I quietly cursed.

I was probably going to have to apologize to her.

Which would just be buckets of fun, I was sure.

I really hated medcenters.

Moments later, the woman returned, a power chair hovering in front of her.

"Er," I began awkwardly from where I was still lying on the floor. In hopes of being able to talk without gasping for air, I purposefully tried to pace myself and speak slowly. "Sorry about that. I, um, I shouldn't have tripped you, or insulted you, or yelled at you or told you what to do. I just—I don't think I'm a very good patient," I finally confessed, feeling my face heat up.

The woman just stared down at me.

She didn't say anything at all as she walked around the power chair and wordlessly helped to lift me into it.

I bit back a curse as she did—it hurt whenever I moved—and stayed awkwardly silent as she pushed me into the fresher.

Once there, she silently helped clean the dried bacta off of my face, rearranged the bandages I abruptly realized my shoulder, thigh, hip and especially stomach were wrapped in, and then briskly brushed and braided my hair.

The longer the silence continued, the worse I felt. However, I had already tried to apologize and she didn't seem to want to accept it. I wasn't going to push her to forgive me.

After several incredibly awkward minutes, she put me back in bed and then wordlessly set up a comm unit on my lap, and entered Naboo's central communications number.

"I trust you can take it from here," she said frostily before leaving.

I stared after her, my eyes wide.

I hadn't been very polite, but I had said I was sorry. And she had hurt me. I didn't think I deserved her being that rude to me.

However, before I could concentrate on it much longer, the communications officer answered.

"Hello, Naboo Central Communications. How may I redirect your call?" a polite woman asked.

"Hello," I gave her a tentative smile. "Could you connect me with the Royal Handmaiden Center? At the palace in Theed?"

"May I ask who is requesting permission?"

"Sabé Reccen. My ID code is 5423," I answered.

I saw the communications officer enter my numbers off screen. After a few moments, she smiled at me warmly.

"The Queen has actually asked that we dispatch you to her directly. I'll connect you in a moment. And," she added, her smile growing, "thank you."

Before I could figure out what she was thanking me for, the comm unit indicated that my call was being transferred. Shifting a little bit uncomfortably and yawning—I was exhausted from my trip to clean up—I waited for my call to go through.

After only a few moments, Padmé appeared on the screen, in her typical Queenly regalia.

"Sabé!" Her face broke into a wide grin. "How are you?"

I smiled back at her, stifling a yawn. I was about to answer, but, before I could, Saché, Rabé, Yané and Eirtaé suddenly appeared next to Padmé, all of them jostling for a place on the transmission.

"How is she?" Saché snorted, her face briefly appearing the clearest on the transmission before she was elbowed away again. "She was shot three times and had her stomach ripped open, milady. How do you _think_ she is?"

I laughed and then, with a wince, stopped. Clearly, laughing wasn't such a great idea.

"Are you okay?" Rabé asked, worried, her eyes peeking up at me from the half of her face that I could see near the bottom of the transmission. "Have they been treating you well? I know Coruscant has better facilities than we do but I've heard some really bad things about the staff and—"

"You're not going to die, are you?" Yané interrupted anxiously, pushing her way to the front of the crowd. "Because, did you know, with a stomach wound like you received, only around 14% of people survive? And, oftentimes, the doctors can only wake the person for a few hours before they cease breathing and all their necessary functions shut down?"

Unable to help myself, I let out a very small laugh, despite the pain.

"I'm going to live, Yané. The doctor said something about needing therapy, but, soon, I should be as good as new!" I told them all.

"I am so sorry, Sabé," Padmé told me, as she politely moved Yané and Saché to the side, taking their place in the middle of the transmission. Her smile was gone. "I never should have let you play Decoy for me. I—"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be silly, Padmé. It's my job."

"You almost died," retorted Padmé.

"But," I said optimistically, "I didn't."

"It was really close, Sabé," Eirtaé spoke up for the first time, seeming to be standing on tip-toe in order to get her face in the transmission. "If there hadn't been a doctor in the audience, or if you hadn't dropped your purse…"

"But I did," I told them firmly. "And I'm alive and it's going to be fine." Before they could continue pointing out how close I'd come to dying—something I didn't really feel very comfortable talking about—I continued, "But how are all of you? What have I missed with you?"

The bits and pieces I could see of my friends all appeared to be exchanging exasperated looks, and eye rolls.

Then, as one, they chorused, "Hopeless."

**Expected Update Time: Before November 20****th**


	3. Breakout

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part I: In Which Sabé Almost Dies_

Chapter 2: Breakout 

I flattened against the wall, trying to steady my breathing as I listened intently. It didn't sound like there was anyone nearby.

Cautiously, I peeked around the corner. Seeing no one, I quickly walked across the atrium, trying to look as casual as possible. Heart racing, I slipped out of the door and into the warm Coruscanti air.

I was free!

It had been two long and painful weeks since I had woken up to find myself in the medcenter on Coruscant. Dr. Manru continued to be very pleasant and very good at her job, but a little oblivious and very busy, meaning she didn't really have much time to answer my questions or anything like that. The grumpy woman who I had tripped—I later found out her name was Bellona—was one of the main nurses I had to work with and she remained as grumpy and unpleasant as she had been the first time we met. My other nurses—Flora and Winnamine—were only slightly more pleasant. My physical therapist was also incredibly good at his job and was my favorite of the lot. However, I only saw him for about an hour every day.

The rest of the time, I was either in the dubious hands of my doctor and the nurses or left to my own devices.

Needless to say, this was not the first time I had made a daring escape from my medcenter room.

It was, however, the most difficult escape yet. The last time I had gone out, stupid Bellona had come in to check on me and had discovered that I was missing. Apparently, it had caused something of a hullaballoo, despite the note I had left politely explaining that I had just left to stretch my legs and would be back within the hour.

They now had nurses checking on me every half hour and pretty much the entire medcenter was under strict orders to return me to my room if they found me wandering around. Figuring that those measures meant they were pretty serious about me not leaving, I had been good for the last two days, staying in my room like they had asked.

However, I couldn't take it any longer. I thought was I going to go crazy if I had to resort to counting the tiles on my ceiling even one more time.

Resisting the urge to whistle, I slowly walked down the skywalk in front of the medcenter. The skywalk led past the restaurants and cafés found in this part of Galactic City.

I had never actually escaped outside the medcenter before—my other adventures had been limited to exploring the medcenter itself—but my window had a view of this section of the city, so I had a decent idea of where everything was.

Thanking the gods for what must have been the hundredth time for the clothes and money I had convinced Padmé, Eirtaé and Rabé to send me from home, I walked very slowly down the skywalk. This was partially caused by the fact that my legs were killing me (but, let's not think about that). The fact that I wanted to look at all the restaurants also slowed my pace, as my stomach was growling.

I had eaten nothing but medcenter food since I'd woken up and I was dying to eat something that actually tasted like food.

I stopped in between a sweet shop and a bustling café, debating which one to go into first. There were pros and cons to each option.

"Sabé?" an incredulous voice asked behind me.

Uh-oh.

I whirled around, prepared to lie to my head off and possibly run if it was one of the medcenter employees.

Instead, I was confronted by a gangly boy with blue eyes, blond hair and a braid behind his ear.

"Anakin?" I stared at the boy in disbelief.

His face split into a wide grin as he ran towards me.

"What're you doing on Coruscant? Is Padmé here? What about Eirtaé, Yané, Rabé and Saché? Why didn't you let me and Obi-Wan know?" the questions flew out of Anakin's mouth so fast I almost didn't catch them.

Then, I laughed.

Next, I winced because, unbelievably enough, it still hurt my stomach when I did that.

"Slow down, Ani!" I grinned. "It's only me here, I'm afraid. The others are still on Naboo. But how are you? I haven't you seen in ages! Look how much you've grown!"

Anakin rolled his eyes a little bit. "I haven't grown _that_ much."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You're almost as tall as I am. That is not acceptable, by the way. I'm—how old are you now?"

"Twelve..."

"I'm—one, two—six years older than you! You should not be almost as tall as me!"

Anakin laughed and rolled his eyes again. "Sabé, I'm not that tall. You're just really short."

I gave him my best wounded look. "Anakin Skywalker! Take that back. I am not short and I am truly and deeply hurt that you would say I am."

"Whatever you say, Sabé," Anakin patted me on the arm patronizingly, his eyes shining as he did so.

Once again, I couldn't help myself. I laughed and, ignoring my sore shoulder and throbbing stomach, pulled Anakin into a hug.

There was a moment's pause and then he hugged me back fiercely.

I let go of him and just beamed. "Stars, I hadn't realized how much I missed you!"

Anakin blushed, looking embarrassed. "Yeah. Missed you, too, Sabé."

"Where's Obi-Wan? He's still your teacher, right?" I looked around, hoping to catch sight of him. My heart sped up a bit at the thought.

"Er," Anakin's blush deepened. "Yeah, he's still my master. But, um, he's not around right now, because, um… he… um…"

I raised my eyebrows and Anakin suddenly appeared to be completely fascinated by his shoes.

"Come on, Anakin," I ordered, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him my sternest look. "Where's Obi-Wan?"

"Well, he's back at the Temple…" Anakin began.

"And?" I prompted.

"And… well, I _might_ have snuck out without telling him." Anakin peeked up at me, looking nervous.

I stared at him for a moment. I probably shouldn't have been supporting this little escapade. I should probably have told him to go back to the Temple.

But… well…

"Huh. Well, I _might_ have snuck out of the medcenter despite strict orders to remain in my room."

Anakin's head shot up and his eyes grew to be the size of saucers.

"So if you promise not to tell anyone on me, I can probably promise not to tell on you," I told Anakin.

"Deal!" Anakin agreed quickly, sticking his hand out for a shake.

I took it, solemnly shook it and then said, "Want to get lunch at the café and catch up?"

"Yeah!" Anakin's eyes lit up and his smile was firmly back in place. "Then you can tell me why you had to sneak out of the medcenter! Why are you even in the medcenter?"

"Oh, you know," I shrugged, trying to sound as casual as possible as we headed towards the café, "got shot, but it's nothing major."

Anakin gaped at me. "Wow! What happened? Were you doing something really cool, like busting a spice ring?"

I laughed again. Then, I spotted a table near the back.

"Look! A table. Why don't you grab it and I can order us some food?" I suggested.

Anakin's face fell a bit and he shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't have any credits with me, but I can hold the table while you get food for yourself."

I stared at him and then rolled my eyes. "My treat, Ani. After all, it's not every day you run into an old friend. What do you want?"

"Um…" Anakin thought for a moment, smiled, shyly thanked me and then told me what he wanted to eat. Then, he fought his way through the crowd to stake out our table before someone else could take it.

An hour later, we had both finished our meals, but not our conversation.

Turned out, we had a lot to talk about.

We talked about our opinion on Chancellor Palpatine…

"Why don't you like the Chancellor, Sabé? He's really nice and a great listener!"

"No, he's not. He's creepy."

"He is not creepy, Sabé! He's—"

"Creepy. And manipulative."

"He is not—"

"He is. It's undeniable. Our Chancellor, excellent though he may be at Chancellor-hood, is creepy and manipulative."

"He is not!"

About our adventures…

"Wait, wait, wait! You did _what_?"

"Well, Master Obi-Wan looked like he was in trouble, so—"

"So you released a cage full of _tuskcats_?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time! At least I didn't throw a Senator off a balcony!"

"That was an honest mistake! It looked like he was reaching for a blaster!"

About our friends…

"Well, let's see… Padmé runs for reelection in a couple months and I'll dance in the streets naked if she loses…"

"Good thing she's the best Queen ever, because no one wants to see that."

"Thanks, Anakin. Um… Eirtaé is thinking of taking some night classes at the University to start on her business degree… Yané is already taking night classes at the University, despite only being fourteen. I think she's going for a degree in theoretical physics, of all things… Rabé's learning a lot about small businesses and saving up money so she can open up a flower shop eventually… Saché's trying to convince Rabé that she'd be an excellent co-owner of a flower shop… Wicaté started up her own fashion line…um… and I think that's it. How about your friends?"

"Um… well, I don't really have that many, because I started really late and it was—anyway, Barriss is pretty cool. She's a Padawan like me, so she's doing, you know, Padawan stuff. Obi-Wan is my master, so pretty much everything I do, he does too, only better, usually. Chancellor Palpatine is doing a whole bunch of political stuff. I think. I don't really know…"

About our career goals…

"I'm going to be the best Jedi ever! You just watch me. I know I started late and that I'm only starting to catch up with everyone, but I'm going to prove that doesn't matter. I'm going to show everyone that I'm just as good as they are. I'm going to prove I'm _better_ than they are!"

"Anakin, I think it would be perfect if we could just share your ambition between the pair of us. That way, maybe I'd have some idea what I want to do with my life after Padmé finishes her terms as Queen and you'd be setting realistic goals for yourself."

"My goals are realistic!"

"You want to be the best Jedi of all time? Ani, I hate to break it to you, but that doesn't sound very realistic. Wanting to be the best Jedi you can be? Realistic. Wanting to catch up with everyone in your year group? Realistic. Being better than everyone in your year group? Realistic, with enough work probably. Being the best Jedi in history? How would you even know? Is there a way to grade yourself on some 'Best Jedi Ever' scale? Is there some kind of mathematical equation, or something? I don't know Anakin, seems kind of like a silly goal to me. Although I probably shouldn't be talking. At least you have a goal. That means you're light-years ahead of me."

"Oh, you have a goal, Sabé. Like… like… you want to get out of the medcenter! That's a goal!"

"I guess…"

And, unfortunately, we talked about my near death experience.

"Sabé, I don't…" Anakin looked a little bit uncomfortable, but continued anyway. "I know this is probably really weird, but remember back on Naboo? When we were letting families know who died?"

I looked at him curiously. "Yes. What about it?"

"Well… remember when you said you weren't scared because you weren't going to die until you were eighteen?" Anakin asked, his eyes intent on mine.

I had a bad feeling I knew where he was going with this.

"Do you—I don't know. I mean, you're not dead but it sounds like you came close. It just seems weird."

I started to play with my napkin a little uncomfortably.

I didn't really want to talk to Anakin about my dreams but… well, it was driving me crazy, not talking to anyone about them. And Anakin was training to be a Jedi, so, even though he was only twelve, maybe…

"I'm going to tell you something sort of strange, okay?" I began tentatively. "And I want you to promise not to—I don't know—think I'm crazy or anything, alright?"

Anakin looked intrigued and nodded.

"And," I pointed my fork at him, "don't go telling anyone either. I haven't told anyone else because I don't—well, if I tell you it's going to stay between you and me, yes?"

Anakin straightened up, looking serious and maybe the slightest bit flattered that I'd chosen to tell him and not anybody else.

"I promise I won't tell anyone, Sabé. Not even Obi-Wan!"

"And definitely not the Chancellor, right?"

Anakin gave me a very dirty look for even suggesting he'd do such a thing.

"Okay, okay, just checking! The guy gives me the willies and I'd very much like it if he continued to be generally unaware of my existence." I played with my napkin a little longer, trying not to second guess telling Anakin and also trying to figure out how to go about telling him.

Across from me, I could almost see Anakin trying to hold back his impatience.

I bit back a smile and just decided to start.

"Right. I know this sounds insane. But when I was ten years old, I had a dream. It was about a little girl. She had dark hair and she looked like me, only she was scared. She said that she knew my name, but she couldn't remember hers. And then she said that she had died. That Naboo had been attacked and that, while trying to save others, she had burned. She was so, so scared. And she kept saying that I was important. And then I woke up. And, for a couple years, it was just that."

Anakin frowned, looking confused.

I shrugged and gave a rueful smile. "Hang on. It'll make sense—or, well, at least you'll know why I'm telling you—in a bit. So, anyway, a couple years later, I dreamt about her again. She wasn't as scared, that time. Instead, she talked to me and told me that she knew why she was in my dream. And she went on to tell me that the only reason she was dead was because the galaxy was at war. And that war was because of an imbalance of some kind. I don't know—I didn't really get it and she didn't explain it all that well. But, basically, she wasn't supposed to have burned. And she was in my dream to tell me how to change the future, so that the war didn't happen, Naboo wasn't attacked and she didn't burn. Then, she told me that when I was eighteen, there was going to be some extremist activists, and unless I dropped my purse on the third step, I would die."

Anakin's eyebrows shot up.

"I know," I agreed, "And it gets stranger."

"How can it get stranger?"

"Just wait," I informed him before continuing. "Anyway, she also said that when I'm twenty-five, the Queen is going to fly into Coruscant because of some Military Act, or something. And I'm supposed to hurry down our ship's ramp and then fall off of it, or else I'll die. Then, she offered to tell me the rest of the future. And I told her to go ahead. Only, I don't remember anything else happening."

Anakin stared at me.

"Bizarre, isn't it? And then—" I knew I didn't have to tell him this part, but it felt so good to get it all off my chest. "And then, just last week, I had another dream about the girl who burned. And she told me that I was alive, which was good, and that I should try to stay alive, because I was important. And, somehow, if I stayed alive, I could stop her from burning."

Anakin continued to stare at me.

I bit my lip and looked down at my napkin, only to find that, while telling the story, I had shredded it to pieces.

Anakin didn't say anything for a long while.

So, smiling ruefully, I forced myself to interrupt Anakin's silence, "Do you think I'm insane now?"

"No!" Anakin said quickly. "No! I—Can I tell someone about this? Because I really think Master Obi-Wan would—"

"No!" I snapped. "You promised, Ani. You promised you wouldn't tell anyone."

The thought of Obi-Wan knowing that I had strange dreams and thought they were actually prophetic made me want to run off and hide in a hole somewhere, never to emerge again.

"I—okay," Anakin agreed reluctantly. "But I think—the whole 'imbalance' bit sounds like a Jedi thing. And I think I remember Master Yoda talking about Force dreams or something, but I thought only Jedi could have those," Anakin said thoughtfully.

I shrugged with my uninjured shoulder. "I don't know what it is, but I do think that little girl saved my life. If I hadn't dropped that purse… well." I forced myself to smile. "On that cheery note," Anakin smiled at my sarcasm, "I think we should go. Obi-Wan's probably starting to wonder where you are and I know the nurses are probably having conniption fits over my disappearing act."

Anakin grinned and then stood up.

Together, we left the café'.

"It was really nice talking to you, Anakin. And sorry for telling you about my dreams. You should probably just pretend I didn't say anything," I said.

Anakin shrugged. "I'm glad you said something. It's interesting. And…" he sent me a sideways look, "it'd be nice if we could talk again, sometime."

I stared at him. "You know, we really shouldn't. Sneaking away from the medcenter and the Jedi Temple isn't very mature of us. We should probably just brace ourselves and handle the situation."

"Probably," Anakin agreed, solemnly. Then, a smile flashed across his face. "Want to meet here two days from now anyway?"

I couldn't help myself. Despite the ache in my stomach, shoulder and legs—I was actually starting to look forward to lying down on my awful medcenter bed I was so tired—I laughed.

"I'd love to. See you then? Same time?"

Anakin beamed. "See you, Sabé!" And then he ran off, leaving me to try and sneak back into the medcenter.

**Expected Update Time: Before 12/10/12 (By the way: Is this helpful or irritating? Do you have any opinion on it?)  
**


	4. Caught

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part I: In Which Sabé Almost Dies_

Chapter 3: Caught

"I think I'm going to get to make my own lightsaber soon!" Anakin informed me enthusiastically as we ate our now traditional lunch at the café together. "I'm getting really good with the training saber and Master Obi-Wan hinted at us getting to go off planet soon."

"You guys make your own lightsabers?" I asked him curiously as I took a bite of my sandwich.

"Uh-huh. It's really cool! I've been reading up on it in the—" Suddenly, Anakin spat a word I didn't know—a Huttese curse word, I thought—and disappeared under our table.

I blinked at where he'd been sitting only seconds before, wondering what in the galaxy was going on.

Deciding that asking Anakin was probably the only way to get answers, I looked around the café to make sure no one would see me poke my head under the tablecloth. I let out a nasty swear word of my own, before panicking and also diving under the table.

As I dove under the table, I quietly swore. My stomach had twisted painfully.

It had been a week and a half since Anakin and I had first run into each other. Over the course of that week and a half, my hip, leg and shoulder had been progressing enormously. I could walk at a normal pace now and had regained full motion of my shoulder. However, my stomach was still tender and diving under a table had not helped.

"What's Obi-Wan doing here?" I hissed at Anakin as we huddled under the table together. "And when did he grow a beard?"

"How should I know why he's here?" Anakin hissed back. "And do you really think his beard is important right now?"

"Yes! He didn't have a beard the last time I saw him! And he's your master! Did he follow you?"

"I don't think so! But—" Anakin looked a little sheepish. "He probably noticed that I've been sneaking out of the Temple at the same time every other day."

"Great. Well, now what do we do? We can't stay under the table forever."

"Speak for yourself! I'm comfortable here! And we could probably live off of food that people drop."

"Oh please," I scoffed. "And what about when we have to use the 'fresher?"

"We'd think of something! But that's not important right now. Did he see you?"

"I don't think so? It looked like he was looking at that couple on the other side of the café. I mean, I think… I didn't really look that closely, I just sort of panicked."

"If he catches me, I'm done for!" Anakin quietly moaned.

"You? What about me? I've been encouraging you to sneak away from your duties. I've been leaving the medcenter against medical advice on a regular basis. I hid in a closet for an hour so that the nurses couldn't scold me! I'm not exactly being a good role model here!"

"But he's not your master!" Anakin wailed as quietly as he could. "He'll have me doing so many—"

"Anakin. Are you going to stay under that table forever?"

Anakin swore nastily.

Reluctantly, he climbed out from under the tablecloth, leaving me alone beneath the table.

Feeling like I was once again six years old, I remained in hiding, hoping and praying to whatever gods were listening that Obi-Wan did not know I was there.

It would be beyond mortifying if he did.

After all, what self-respecting adult hid under a table to avoid getting caught? Anakin at least had the excuse of being twelve. I was full grown and the first line of defense for the Queen of the Naboo. Hiding under a table was completely beneath my dignity.

If Eirtaé could see me now, I thought grimly, she would have a fit.

"And what about your friend?" Obi-Wan continued. I winced. "Is she going to stay under the table?"

"Yes," Anakin replied stoutly. "She is."

I blessed his heart. What a loyal friend.

Although, it probably would have been better if he had just denied my existence. But whatever. It was the thought that counted.

"Oh?" I could almost see Obi-Wan's raised eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"Because… because… because she's a table-dweller, obviously. No self-respecting table-dweller ever comes out from underneath their table," Anakin said self-importantly.

_What_?

"Oh, really?" drawled Obi-Wan. "Is that so?"

"Of course it is, Master. Haven't you ever heard of the table-dwellers before? I thought everyone knew about them," Anakin continued with breezy self-confidence.

This was the most outrageous lie I had ever been a part of and I had been a part of some pretty outrageous lies. After all, I had once spent a week trying to convince two Jedi and the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic that I was the Queen of Naboo. No lie should be able to faze me after that, but… _table-dwellers_?

"Really? Well, in that case, should we join your friend the table-dweller underneath her table?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Uh," Anakin stalled. "No. Because… because…"

Oh, this was getting ridiculous. Or, well, _more_ ridiculous, at any rate.

"Thanks for trying, Anakin. But I don't think he's buying it," I reluctantly spoke up. "If you give me a moment, I can join you top-side."

I looked around the underside of the table, looked at my stomach and tried to figure out the least painful way to get out.

Eventually, after some deliberation, I decided on crawling.

It took some maneuvering and a bit of stomach pain but, eventually, I got into a position where I could crawl.

Gathering up my courage and what little self-respect I had left, I crawled out from underneath the table with as much dignity as possible.

Once I cleared the table, I turned my crawl into a kneel, wincing as I took a moment to catch my breath.

Anakin was staring down at me apologetically.

Obi-Wan, who now had a beard and wore his hair longer than when I'd last seen him, blinked at me and then stared at me in what could have been shock.

My stomach rolling, my pulse racing, and embarrassment flooding me, I nonetheless summoned up my most sincere smile.

"Hello, Obi-Wan. It's very nice to see you again."

He continued to stare.

Then, very quietly, he breathed, "Sabé?"

"Do you know anyone else who would join your charming Padawan in a desperate dive under a café table?" I asked self-deprecatingly.

There was a moment's pause and then he laughed, his entire face lighting up. As he laughed, my heart flipped and, silently, I cursed. It would seem the crush that I had developed on him during the Federation's invasion was still in full force. How incredibly irritating.

"I can't say I know very many, no." Obi-Wan grinned down at me.

I sheepishly smiled back, resolving then and there to ignore my crush as much as possible. I liked Obi-Wan—he was a good friend. As a Jedi, friendship was all he had to offer. Having a crush on him was silly, irritating, and useless. Therefore, I'd ignore all the symptoms of my crush and, with any luck, it would just go away.

Anakin, looking tentative, glanced between the two of us and then asked, "Do you need help getting up, Sabé?"

Biting my lip, I considered the situation.

The scar on my stomach was incredibly displeased with all the stretching and pulling I'd put it through in the last few minutes. My thigh was not very happy about being sat on and my hip wasn't overly thrilled about it either. In order to stand up on my own, I'd most likely end up having to use my shoulder which would probably end in me being in even more pain than I was in now.

However, standing up with help… well, that would be embarrassing.

Just as I decided I'd try it on my own, Anakin rolled his eyes and walked forward. As he did, he turned to Obi-Wan, who was now frowning slightly at the pair of us.

"That means yes, but she's embarrassed about it."

"Hey!" I protested, "It does not—"

Anakin stared at me.

Blushing, I conceded, "Okay. Maybe a little."

He rolled his eyes and then said, "On three. One… two… three!"

Anakin and I worked together and, between the two of us, I got to my feet. I still winced because of the discomfort in my stomach, but it didn't hurt as much as it probably would have had I stood on my own.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I smiled. (_Ignore how pleased you feel that he's concerned—Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it…)_

"Sabé got shot three times and then was slashed across the stomach by a vibroblade while playing decoy for Padmé," Anakin answered.

I glared at him.

He grinned cheekily before turning back to Obi-Wan. "She likes to downplay it, though. Took me two hours to figure that out!"

"It did not," I protested to Obi-Wan. "And it really isn't that bad. I can probably go home in a week!" I added happily.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose. "How long have you been in Coruscant?"

"Um…" I thought it over. "Four weeks, I think?"

"Are you allergic to bacta?" Obi-Wan asked with a frown.

"Nope! She was in a bacta tank on Naboo for three days and then they had to transfer her to Coruscant. And she was still out for over a week after that!" Anakin piped up.

Obi-Wan looked at me in disbelief. "Oh yes," he said drily. "It sounds like your injuries were positively minor."

Anakin laughed and I blushed uncomfortably, trying to ignore the increasing pain in my stomach.

"What are you doing in a café if you can't go home for a week?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Um…" I floundered a little bit.

I didn't really want to tell him that I'd snuck out of the medcenter multiple times against my doctor's wishes. Or that I was beginning to suspect that I may have reinjured my stomach while doing so, just like my doctor and nurses had warned me I would if I kept overdoing things.

"Look, Master! They have that dessert you like!" Anakin broke in helpfully, pointing at the menu.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at his Padawan and then turned to me. "That bad?"

"Medcenters are very dull places," I told him seriously.

His mouth twitched dangerously close to another smile. "Are you saying that you broke out of a medcenter, Sabé?"

"My nurses aren't very nice, my doctor is very busy, and I always leave a note to let them know that they shouldn't worry and when I'll be back," I shrugged.

His lips twitched again and his eyes were dancing.

"See, Sabé? You are a good role model!" Anakin piped up again, grinning. "Leaving a note is very responsible."

I burst out laughing—that hurt my stomach even more, but I couldn't quite bring myself to stop—and even Obi-Wan grinned.

Anakin looked pleased with himself. However, Obi-Wan quickly sobered and in response, Anakin became serious.

"Well, it's better than what you did, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, turning to face his wayward Padawan.

Anakin stared evenly at his Master. Obi-Wan seemed to grow even more serious and I was pretty sure that Anakin was in for a telling off. I began to feel a little bit queasy from guilt.

"I don't—" I cleared my throat awkwardly as both Anakin and Obi-Wan turned to look at me. Anakin was looking hopeful and Obi-Wan was being polite. I continued, "It was partially my fault. I should have told Anakin that we couldn't keep having lunch. I know it was really irresponsible of me to encourage him to skip his lessons and I'm very sorry. I was just excited to see a friend. It's sort of lonely at the medcenter—I don't know anyone else on planet and the girls can really only call once or twice a week. So, well," I shrugged uncomfortably, "I'm afraid I let my loneliness override my common sense. It was a mistake and I'm very sorry for the disruption I caused. It was more my fault than it was Anakin's, really. Please don't be too harsh on him. Although," I added, giving Anakin a faint smile, "he probably should have left a note."

Anakin gave me a grateful smile in return.

Obi-Wan looked at me for a long moment. His eyes—just as beautiful as I remembered them (_Ignore it, Sabé!)_—seemed to search mine for something.

I gave him an apologetic smile, ignoring the way the wound on my stomach was throbbing.

Obi-Wan sighed.

"Why don't we escort Sabé back to her room, Anakin? Then you can begin the meditation exercises you should have been doing all week."

Anakin drooped but reluctantly nodded.

"Oh, I don't want to put you even more out of your way," I said, feeling guiltier the longer I talked to Obi-Wan. I really shouldn't have agreed to have lunch with Anakin a second time, much less all week. "I've already caused you enough problems. I can make my way back on my own and I promise I will. Besides," I added with a faint smile, "I wouldn't want anyone, much less you two, to have to see Bellona in a bad mood. And she's always in a bad mood after I've disappeared." I paused. "Understandable, really. It's probably not much fun trying to track down a moody patient, particularly one with training in stealth and combat." And one with a high chance of re-injury, I privately added.

Anakin tried to hide his smile but didn't quite succeed.

I dredged up a smile of my own.

"I did enjoy having lunch with you though, Anakin. And I'm glad for chance to see you again, Obi-Wan." I smiled at both of them, waved and then left the café.

Feeling incredibly disheartened, I trudged back to the medcenter, doing my best to ignore the gnawing sense of guilt and the burning pain in my stomach.

**Expected Update Time: Before 1/10/12 (Everyone seemed to agree this was useful so it's staying. Obviously :D)**


	5. Visit

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews; I really appreciate hearing from you! I hope all of your holidays went well! My family set our oven on fire. Dad (a firefighter, thankfully) had to put it out, Mom had to cook all the food at my grandma's house and the rest of us had to clean up the dry-chem that was all over our kitchen (if you don't know, that's what fire extinguishers spit out. It gets everywhere and is pain to clean) all before my extended family arrived an hour later. But Christmas went well, considering. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think!  
**

**WARNING: You know the Jedi possession rule? I sort of play around with it a little in this chapter. Hopefully I explain it enough in the story that it fits and makes sense anyway? But just wanted to give you forewarning, so you don't read it and get knocked out of the story because of it.  
**

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part_ _I_

Chapter 4: Visit

The next day, I looked despairingly at my crossword puzzle.

I had lost track of the number of puzzles that I had successfully completed since my arrival on Coruscant.

Since waking up in the medcenter, I had developed a sad routine. After I woke up and got ready for the day—often with the help of one of the nurses—I read the day's HoloNet News, two other news sources from Naboo, and my own medical reports. After that, I usually had time for one crossword—sent to me via the HoloNet courtesy of Yané—before I had a meeting with Doctor Manru. Then, I had time for about two crosswords before I had therapy. After therapy, I had the rest of the day to focus on either crosswords or on making polite conversation with my nurses.

Since I didn't really enjoy talking to the nurses, I was getting sick of completing crossword puzzles. However, there was nothing else to do, unless I wanted to catch re-runs of stupid reality shows or count the ceiling tiles again (there were twenty-five—I'd counted the tiles about seven times already, just to be sure).

I sighed and looked at the clue I was currently working on.

_Revolving Around it is a Sanctuary Desert Island in Space_

It was five letters and the first letter was an 'E' and the fourth letter was an 'O'.

I had branched into Galactic crosswords after the Naboo and Political crosswords proved themselves to be almost pathetically easy.

The Galactic ones at least presented a challenge, even if they often had more to do with general knowledge of the galaxy than they did actual cleverness.

Well, I thought, staring at the clue, clearly it was a planet or sun of some kind. Logically, if I could figure out what the 'sanctuary desert island in space' was, I could figure out what this 'island' revolved around and, therefore, the answer. So. An island in space was probably a planet or moon of some kind. As it revolved around something, the island was almost definitely some sort of planet or moon. Unless it was a literal revolving island, which I doubted. So. Desert… it could either be a desert planet or be in a part of the galaxy like a desert or…

"What're you doing?"

"Crossword…" I answered, frowning at my datapad.

Sanctuary… like a safe place? For sentients? But then why would it be a desert?

"What kind of a crossword?"

"Galactic… a desert planet, or a moon in a desert or a desert moon or a planet in a desert or…"

"Tatooine?"

"No, it's only five letters… And it starts with an 'E' and the fourth letter is 'O' …"

"Ealor?"

"That fits, but a sanctuary? Ealor isn't a—Oh. Moon of Endor. Meaning… Endor." I sighed and filled in the answer.

And then, realizing what had just happened, my head snapped up.

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were standing in the doorway to my room and had, evidently, just tried to help me solve my crossword puzzle.

I gaped as Anakin smirked at me and Obi-Wan smiled affably.

"Hello, Sabé. How are you doing today?" Obi-Wan asked politely, as if he and Anakin hadn't just dropped in on me and made my day in the process. His eyes, though, were twinkling.

_(Your stomach did not just flip, Sabé. It __**didn't**__!)_

"A lot better now that you two are here!" I exclaimed, enthusiastically throwing the uncompleted crossword puzzle aside. "Come on in, sit down!"

Anakin and Obi-Wan both walked further into my tiny room. Anakin hopped up onto the foot of my bed and Obi-Wan sat down in the one chair the medcenter had provided. Beaming, I sat cross-legged on my bed, finally free from the dreadful crossword puzzle.

Anakin grinned in reply and a smile snuck back across Obi-Wan's face.

"The simplest things make you happy," Obi-Wan announced, shaking his head.

I laughed. "You wouldn't think having visitors was 'simple' if you'd been stuck by yourself doing crosswords for the last two hours."

"Why crosswords?" Anakin asked.

"Yané. My brain now has a lower chance of deteriorating, apparently," I informed them. "But enough about dreary crossword puzzles—how are you two? What brings you here?"

"Obi-Wan wanted to visit with you too!" Anakin told me. "So we maybe should have just told him. Then I wouldn't be stuck having to meditate all the time and having to do all the dishes by hand for the next three weeks."

"Dishes and meditation? That doesn't sound so bad," I said.

"That's because you're not the one who has to do it," Anakin grumbled.

"It could always be worse," Obi-Wan said lightly.

Anakin rolled his eyes and huffed, clearly disagreeing.

Seeing that this line of conversation was going to go nowhere positive, I decided to try and change the subject.

"Oh! I meant to ask you, Anakin—and maybe it's a good thing I kept forgetting, because now I can ask both of you," I said brightly.

Anakin and Obi-Wan, not as aware of my ways as the girls back home were, looked slightly surprised by the abrupt change in subject but did not exchange any significant looks or eye rolls.

Feeling pleased that they hadn't caught on to my devious conflict-avoidance plan, I continued, "There was some debate about what we ought to send you, so I was wondering: What do you think of the Peace Day gifts?"

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin froze.

My heart sunk—that wasn't really a good sign.

As was traditional when the Naboo owed a great debt—in this case, the debt made by the instrumental role that both Anakin and Obi-Wan had played in freeing our planet from the Trade Federation—the people of Naboo had sent the two Jedi a gift every year. In this particular case, we'd been sending it to them on Peace Day. Peace Day was a new holiday created by Queen Amidala in order to commemorate the day that the Gungans and the Naboo had made their alliance before the Battle of Theed.

The Queen and the Governor had spent a good week arguing about what annual gift the Naboo should send to Anakin and Obi-Wan. Eventually, they came up with a gift they both agreed was a good representation of Naboo culture and that they believed the Jedi council would allow Obi-Wan and Anakin to enjoy, despite their strict policy against having possessions.

From Obi-Wan and Anakin's initial reaction, it would appear that maybe they should have spent more time discussing Obi-Wan and Anakin's personal taste.

"It is very thoughtful of the Naboo to send Anakin and me a gift each year," Obi-Wan began, the picture of graciousness.

However, before he could continue what would undoubtedly have been a very pretty, very diplomatic answer, he was interrupted.

"And they definitely aren't the worst ones we've ever gotten!" Anakin piped up.

Obi-Wan winced.

I raised my eyebrows. "But I take it that they were up there?"

Obi-Wan said, "Of course not," at the very same moment that Anakin said, "Yeah."

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Anakin immediately looked sheepish and tried to take it back.

"I mean, no! Um, it was just interesting! But we like interesting, don't we, Obi-Wan?" Anakin winced even as the words came out of his mouth. Then, in a very small voice he said, "I'm sorry, Sabé."

I shrugged. "It's okay—I'm sorry you didn't like it. But, out of curiosity, what was wrong with the Shuura fruit basket?"

Personally, I'd always thought that the fruit—it only grew on Naboo and was considered a delicacy in most places—was delicious.

"It tastes awful!" Anakin announced bluntly. "And is it supposed to turn blue after a couple of minutes?"

"It… the fruit turned blue?" I blinked.

"Well… yes. Yes, it did. Every time we have received it, the fruit turned blue a few moments after we opened the basket," Obi-Wan reluctantly explained.

"That's…" I was going to say 'odd', but then it clicked. "That actually makes a horrifying amount of sense. I guess Padmé was probably right when she tried to convince us that using Rabé and Yané's chemistry project wasn't the best idea…"

"Chemistry project?" Anakin asked skeptically.

"Uh, yeah," I fidgeted. "A little after you left, there was a poisoning attempt. Luckily, we caught on to it before Padmé could eat enough to kill her. After that, Yané convinced Panaka that she and Rabé should be enrolled in a chemistry class so that they could learn how to counteract any future poisoning attempts. But, um, on the day they were supposed to talk to the teacher about concentrating on poison and antidotes, Rabé was sick. And… well… Yané might have gotten upset about some spoiled food at breakfast that morning and instead told the teacher she wanted to learn how to make a better, more efficient chemical food preservation process. Apparently a side effect of Yané's new process is that it turns food blue and makes it taste bad."

Anakin and Obi-Wan both stared at me.

I smiled tentatively and then said, "I'll talk to Padmé and see if maybe we can send you something else instead."

"Something not fruit?" Anakin looked hopeful.

Obi-Wan seemed torn between amusement and exasperation.

"Padawan, the Naboo do not have to send us anything and we should be grateful for what they do send us. We should not be making any requests, especially because Jedi are not allowed possessions," Obi-Wan told Anakin sternly.

Anakin slumped again. "Sorry, Master. Sorry, Sabé."

I had a feeling that laughing and brushing off his apology wouldn't necessarily be the best thing to do. While I certainly wasn't offended, it seemed as though Obi-Wan was attempting to use this as something of a teaching moment. Laughing—my first instinct—would probably just serve to undermine Obi-Wan and undo whatever it was he was trying to do.

So, instead, I smiled at Anakin and said, "You're forgiven. Although," And maybe I shouldn't have been doing this either, but I could feel a mischievous smile growing on my face as I asked, "I have to wonder. What in the _galaxy_ could the pair of you have been given that was worse that a basket of disgusting, blue fruit?"

And, with that, the conversation began to flow a lot easier. Anakin launched enthusiastically into an explanation of all the strange gifts Obi-Wan, Anakin and other Jedi had received over the years. Obi-Wan often stopped him to interject polite explanations for the seemingly odd gifts, which were often given in an attempt to get around the restrictions the Jedi had on owning things. However, I did notice that Obi-Wan often appeared hard-put to not laugh at Anakin's often-hilarious descriptions of the gifts, the reactions of those who had received the gifts and Anakin's own, very animated, facial expressions.

Not being in charge of teaching Anakin anything, I laughed quite a bit.

I may have also made Obi-Wan's job of not laughing even harder by playfully mimicking Anakin's enthusiasm whenever the boy's back was turned. Of course, Anakin didn't do much to hide his laughter when I mimicked Obi-Wan when Obi-Wan's back was turned. I had a feeling that my innocent expression whenever Obi-Wan turned to see what had Anakin laughing so hard might not have fooled the Jedi.

It did, however, have his eyes dancing and his lips twitching. And I had a feeling it may have led to the pair trying to mimic me whenever I wasn't looking. At least, that was what I assumed had Anakin giggling like a madman whenever I looked away from them.

Somehow, it evolved into a game with all of us not only trying to mimic the others without getting caught, but also, for Anakin and I, trying to make Obi-Wan laugh. Obi-Wan quickly caught on and joined in on the game by trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

This game continued throughout the rest of our conversation—mostly revolving around funny stories we had to share with each other—and, eventually, Anakin and I broke down Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.

As I told them about the time I had accidentally signed up for an Anti-Monarchy League—complete with wild hand gestures and different voices for each person involved—Obi-Wan kept glancing off to the side at Anakin, who must have been mimicking me, looking as though he was on the verge of busting a gut from trying to keep a straight face. Finally, right in the middle of a sentence, I whipped around to catch Anakin mid-mimic, his face overly animated and his hands all over the place—presumably, like mine had been.

I scowled at him, hands on my hips, and said in my most serious voice, "And what do you think _you're_ doing, young man?"

Anakin froze for a moment and then, his eyes sparkling, turned to me, scowled, put his hands on his hips and said in a very high-pitched voice, "And what do you think _you're_ doing, young man?"

And Obi-Wan, finally, completely erupted with laughter.

Anakin and I exchanged triumphant looks before dissolving into laughter ourselves. However, it was at that very moment that Bellona decided to walk in, carrying my dinner on a tray.

I immediately sobered up.

Unfortunately, Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't catch on quite quick enough.

Bellona stormed over to us, abruptly placed my dinner tray in front of me and then whirled around to scowl at the Jedi.

Obi-Wan caught on and immediately schooled his face to seriousness. Only seconds behind, Anakin did his best to look serious as well. However, Anakin couldn't seem to stop his lips from twitching.

"And just what do you think you're doing, Miss Reccen?" Bellona snapped as she turned her attention back to me. "You know what laughing does to your stomach! Do you _want_ it to rip open again? And you! Master Jedi, I'd think you'd know better than to allow Miss Reccen to do such a foolhardy thing, much less to encourage her!"

Anakin's mouth stopped twitching. Instead, he began to frown, looking angry. Obi-Wan blinked in what could have been surprise. I wasn't really certain, though, as his face otherwise remained perfectly polite and serious.

"You may have very little concern for your own well-being, Miss Reccen, but that does not mean you can take every opportunity to make my job more difficult by reinjuring yourself!" Bellona practically growled at me.

"I wasn't—" I protested feebly.

Bellona snorted. "Right. Just like you weren't trying to reinjure yourself by leaving the medcenter. Just like drop-kicking me wasn't—"

"I didn't drop-kick you, Bellona," I interrupted, resisting the urge to sigh. "I pulled you off balance. And I wouldn't have done that if you hadn't ignored the fact that I was trying to tell you that it felt like _you_ were about to reinjure _me_."

Bellona stiffened. "The fact remains, _Miss Reccen_," she put as much disgust behind those two words as she could, "that I was not the one who reopened your stomach. That was entirely your own fault. Now, Master Jedi," Bellona whirled back around to face Obi-Wan, "visiting hours are over and I would thank you kindly to take your Padawan and leave my patient alone. And not come back! Because clearly she is unable to responsibly—"

Anakin looked furious and he opened his mouth, obviously to say something in return. However, I quickly cut him off. If there was going to be a fight—and, with Bellona, I had unfortunately learned that there was nearly always going to be a fight—I wasn't going to let him fight it.

"It wasn't laughing that re-opened my stomach, Bellona," I sighed. "It was the fact that I decided to hide under a table—a bad move on my part, I'll admit. So don't yell at them. They're my friends and they haven't done anything but cheer me up and be good company, so please be polite to them."

"I made you reopen your stomach?" Anakin sounded stricken.

"No, Anakin," I told him firmly, silently cursing Bellona out for bringing this up around Anakin and Obi-Wan. They did not need to know any of this. "I reopened my stomach because I didn't listen to my doctor or my nurses and misjudged how much I was ready for. It was my mistake, not yours at all. Just like laughing won't do anything to my stomach—I know, I asked Dr. Manru specifically—despite what Bellona is saying."

Bellona bristled and opened her mouth to argue back.

However, before she could, Obi-Wan stood up and smoothly interrupted her. "I'm sorry to have stayed past visiting hours, Miss Bellona. Anakin and I will take our leave now." Anakin looked like he was about to protest, but Obi-Wan silenced him with a look before continuing. "Sabé?" he smiled down at me, "We hope you have a nice night."

Anakin reluctantly hopped off the bed.

"Bye, Sabé," he said glumly.

I waved at them as they began to leave, feeling horrible about the way that this otherwise lovely visit had ended. However, before I could feel too awful, Obi-Wan turned back around, a twinkle suddenly in his eyes. "We'll see you tomorrow."

And, unable to help myself, a grin spread across my face.

_But you don't have a crush on him, Sabé. You don't, you don't, you don't…_

**Expected Update Time: Feb 4th **


	6. Homecoming

**To Die for the Republic**

_Part_ _I_

_In Which Sabé Almost Dies_

Chapter 5: Homecoming

I stood in the hanger, nervously checking the time and scanning the crowd. Anakin and Obi-Wan had said they would come to see me off, but I was starting to get worried that they wouldn't make it before I had to board my ship.

A week and a half had passed since Obi-Wan and Anakin had first visited me in the hospital. They had continued to visit me whenever they had the time. While it wasn't every day, as they were kept fairly busy at the Jedi Temple, I still saw them quite a bit.

Now, however, I had been cleared to go home and would be leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan behind on Coruscant. I tried to ignore the way my stomach twisted at the thought and instead focus on the fact that I'd be seeing Padmé, Eirtaé, Rabé, Yané and Saché very shortly. It had been about seven weeks since I'd been able to properly talk to them, in person. Even though I had only really been conscious for about five of those seven weeks, it still felt like a very long time to go without having a proper conversation with them. There were undoubtedly loads of things I still had to catch up on, despite the fact that I had read newspapers in an effort not to get too far behind. Besides, I was just really looking forward to getting home.

I had missed the steady routine of the palace, my incredibly comfortable quilt (made for me by Wardobre and Makeup specialist, Wicaté, for my sixteenth birthday), talking and laughing with my friends and the wonderful feeling of knowing where I belonged and what I was to do. I had, of course, also missed having the freedom to go where I wished and to eat what I pleased.

I tried to concentrate on the fact that I'd shortly have all of that once again. However, as my ship's boarding time drew nearer and Anakin and Obi-Wan remained firmly gone, it became harder not to think of all the things I would miss about Coruscant.

I would miss the view from my medcenter window of the endless skyline. I would miss the sheer crush of life and the way a Coruscanti native was surprised by nothing—not even a human girl wandering around in a medcenter gown. I would, strangely enough, even miss the way the noise never stopped and the lights never faded.

But, more importantly, I would miss Anakin's easy laugh and his passion for life. I would miss Obi-Wan's sarcasm and his kindness. I would miss watching the way the pair of them played off each other and I would miss joining in on their battle of wits. I would miss the way Obi-Wan could, effortlessly, smooth over any situation and the way that Anakin just seemed to attract trouble.

I would, in short, really miss them.

And it would be even worse if I didn't get a chance to say good-bye.

I nervously glanced at the time and reluctantly began to move closer to my ship. I would have to board soon or risk missing my flight back home.

"Sabé!"

My heart lifting, I spun back around.

Anakin was running towards me as fast as he could.

Behind him, following at a slightly more sedate pace, was Obi-Wan.

I beamed.

"Anakin! I was worried you two weren't going to make it!" I exclaimed as Anakin skidded to a stop in front of me.

"I'm afraid there was something of an incident between Anakin and a speeder," Obi-Wan said as he drew level with us.

"I'm just glad you both got here before I left. I have to board in—" I glanced at the time and then at my ship, "Well, now actually. So," I hesitated for a very brief moment and then decided.

I swooped down and caught Anakin up into a hug—he hugged me back, no questions asked. Then, gathering my courage (_He's a friend, a friend, a friend)_, I hugged Obi-Wan, who froze before tentatively hugging me back. I quickly let go of him, backed up and continued to beam at the pair of them, hoping that if I kept smiling I wouldn't do something silly, like cry.

"It was wonderful to see you two again and I'm so glad we had a chance to catch up! Hopefully it won't take us—what, three years?—before we see one another again. But if it does, best of luck you two. I'll miss you both loads! Be good to one another, yeah?" I told them as I hurriedly began to back towards my now almost completely loaded ship.

"Bye Sabé! I'll miss you too!" Anakin hollered after me.

"Good-bye! Hopefully we'll see you soon!" Obi-Wan called.

"I'll try and get you a better Peace Day gift!" I yelled with a wave, before turning around and dashing towards the impatient looking conductor, my ticket held out in front of me.

The conductor took my ticket with a frown and then said, "Your seat and table is to the right, third row, by the window."

"Thank you," I smiled.

As I stepped onto the ship, I turned back around to see both Anakin and Obi-Wan waving at me.

I smiled, blinked rapidly to stop myself from crying and then gave them one last wave before allowing the impatient conductor to shoo me off to my seat

Once we'd taken off and I'd settled into my seat, I reluctantly pulled out my crossword puzzles.

Over the course of the flight back to Naboo, I completed an absurd number of them. Such an absurd number that I felt like I might explode if I completed even one more.

So when the pilot announced that we had landed in Theed, I literally bolted out of my seat, grabbed the small bag that contained everything I'd had with me in Coruscant, and practically ran towards the exit.

When the conductor finally showed up to let us off the ship, I was bouncing on my heels and at the very front of a small, but growing, line. The conductor rolled his eyes when I grinned up at him and then, _finally_, he let us out.

I ran down the ship's ramp and into the bright blue of Theed's sky.

The moment I took in a deep breath, I remembered a thousand other things that I had missed about home—the fresh, pure air being one of them.

Unable to help myself, I giggled and gave a small twirl, rejoicing in being home.

"Excuse me?" a very polite voice interrupted my twirl.

I jumped and twisted toward the voice, blushing at being caught spinning like a child.

My blush grew worse when I saw a very pretty dark-haired girl, an inch or so taller than me, standing behind me. She was wearing a gorgeous dress and had a natural air of grace and dignity to her. I would have bet anything that she would never have spun around in happiness, even if she was entirely alone with no one to see her.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, and I blushed even harder. "But would you happen to be Sabé Reccen?"

At that, though, my eyes narrowed. Looking closer, I saw that her gorgeous dress was actually the customary shapeless hooded cloak of a Royal Handmaiden—but I had never seen her before in my life. "Yes. And you are…?"

"Oh, I am sorry. I should have introduced myself. My name is Dormé Flenae. I am your replacement," she smiled politely.

"I—" My head was whirling. My _what?_ "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what—May I help you with something?"

She blinked and then continued, her small smile never fading. "The Queen sent me here to escort you back to the palace."

Escort me? Since when had I needed an escort to go home? What in the galaxy was going on? Who was this Dormé person?

"Oh. That's…nice," I finished lamely, not at all sure where I should go with this. Padmé hadn't said anything about me being replaced or about me having to be 'escorted' back to the palace. "I—look, I'm really sorry, I don't mean to be rude but is there a chance I could maybe see some identification?"

She blinked at me again and her smile seemed to become a little more forced.

Nonetheless, she said, "Of course." Then, she pulled out the tiny gold star that all Royal Handmaidens were issued in order to ensure that we could access all areas of the palace and all other government buildings.

I took it with a small, tight smile. I quickly checked to make sure all seven of the authentication marks were on the star. They were. I also quickly activated the holo in the middle of the star and a tiny picture of Dormé appeared. All of the authentication markers were also present on the holo.

Dormé was who she said she was.

This was awkward. And confusing.

They couldn't actually fire me and give someone else my job without even telling me, could they? And Padmé wouldn't do that to me even if she could, would she?

I handed the star back to Dormé with what I could muster up of a smile, "Thank you. Being a little paranoid here, maybe, but better safe than sorry."

Dormé didn't seem to agree, at least not really, but she kept that forced smile on her face. "Not at all. The speeder is this way."

"Wonderful," I gave her a forced smile of my own and then silently followed her into the speeder.

We climbed in and Dormé took off towards the palace.

The silence was deafening.

"So, um," I began uncertainly, "How've things been in Naboo?"

She gave me a slightly funny look and then asked, still perfectly polite, "Haven't you been reading the newspapers?"

I flushed again. "Of course I have!" I snapped, embarrassed at being thought incompetent enough to not read the newspapers.

Dormé looked faintly surprised by my vehement reaction and then it occurred to me that maybe she had just been confused by my question.

"Sorry," I said. "I've been keeping up with the news. I just meant—in a general, vague, sort of a way—how have things been here, with everyone?" I winced. That didn't really sound much better.

"Fine," Dormé answered simply. "They've been fine."

"Oh."

The conversation died right about there.

I shifted in my seat and eventually decided to just stare out the window instead of attempting to make more conversation.

I tried to soak in the wonderful sights of home. I also tried to ignore the churning in my stomach and the creeping panic that I might no longer have a job and—with that—no longer a home or a family.

I didn't know what I would do if Dormé really had replaced me as handmaiden. And the more I thought of it, the more it seemed to make a horrifying sort of sense. Dormé seemed to be graceful, well-spoken, put together and probably very organized. Everything a handmaiden was supposed to be and I wasn't, quite. She probably also wasn't recovering from injuries that could greatly hinder her in her duty to protect the Queen. Maybe I had been replaced. Maybe I truly didn't have a job or a home anymore!

To stop myself from panicking, I tried to think of calming things—like the blue sky and Anakin's laugh and Obi-Wan's eyes and the railing with the waterfall that I might never see again if they had fired me, because the palace would no longer be home and then I wouldn't be able to see the garden ever again, much less have anywhere to stay, or even a way to make a steady income as I'd have no job! Or any idea as to how to get one. And even if I knew how to get a job, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life! And if I was fired from the royal palace I probably wouldn't get any references, so I wouldn't be able to get the job that I couldn't decide on and wouldn't know how to get in the first place! And if I had no job—and, obviously, I wouldn't have one as I didn't know what job I wanted or how to go about getting it, much less what references I could use if the palace wouldn't give me any—then I'd run out of money and not be able to pay rent on my yet to be found new home and I wouldn't be able to buy enough food to eat so I'd probably have to resort to stealing and then—

"How was Coruscant?" Dormé's voice seemed startlingly loud in the small speeder.

I jumped, surprised out of my spiraling panic.

"Oh, it was—it was fine," I answered faintly, rubbing at my forehead.

So much for not panicking.

"Oh, well, that's nice," said Dormé.

A few more moments passed in silence. Then, to my great relief, we cleared the last security checkpoint and pulled up to the palace.

"We're here." Dormé sounded every bit as relieved as I felt.

I clambered out of the speeder.

"We're to go to the Swan Conference room," Dormé told me.

With that, we were off.

Despite the worry churning in my stomach, I couldn't help but breathe a little easier as we walked through the palace.

For the past three years, this had been home.

These wide, beautiful halls and the gorgeous art and the smooth white of the walls—these were all symbols of home. They all reminded me of—oh, so many things.

It was just—the palace was the first place I had felt at home since my parents had died. And, sure, there were still times when I couldn't quite find my way around the place (it was huge!) but it was still _home _and the thought of leaving it—it made my heart ache and my stomach churn.

Silently, I followed Dormé down the winding hallways toward the Swan Conference room.

"Here we are," Dormé announced quietly as she entered the code that opened the door to the conference room.

I tried to ignore the irrational surge of indignation that filled me as she did—as if I didn't know where we were!—and instead I gave her something that hopefully resembled a smile.

"Queen Amidala will be with you as soon as she has the time," Dormé informed me politely as I entered the room.

"Thank you," I replied, equally polite.

Dormé nodded her head at me and then left me alone in the conference room, the door sliding shut behind her.

**Expected Update Time: Before 2/16/13 (trying to speed this up a bit... we'll see how it goes...)**


	7. Belonging

**To Die for the Republic**

_Part_ _I_

_In Which Sabé Almost Dies_

Chapter 6: Belonging

"Sabé! Oh—" there was a quiet curse word. "She's sleeping!"

"She's what?" another voice hissed.

"She's asleep," the first voice repeated, sounding incredulous.

Someone giggled.

"That cannot be comfortable…"

"Be quiet; we don't want to wake her up."

"Why not? She'll get an awful crick in her neck if she stays like that."

"Too late," I grumbled.

My neck was aching. Also, my head felt heavy, my eyes were gunky, my face was pressed strangely against a hard metal surface and my wrist was digging into my stomach.

Whatever position I had fallen asleep in, it was not a comfortable one—but I also didn't want to move.

The silence stretched on.

Then…

"Um, Sabé?"

"Mmf," I mumbled.

I forced myself to try and focus.

Dormé had left me in the Swan Conference room… an hour had passed with me entirely on my own and I'd ended up crying because the thought of leaving the palace was so awful. Somewhere amidst my sobs, I must have fallen asleep.

"Are you alright?" Padmé sounded anxious.

"Wonderful," I muttered as I wrestled my arm away from where I'd pinned it between my stomach and my thighs. Then, I used it to help push my poor face and neck off the conference table.

I blinked blurrily, swiping at my eyes to get rid of whatever gunk had built up there.

Standing across the table from me were Padmé, Saché, Rabé and Yané. All of them were peering at me worriedly.

I dredged up something like a smile for them.

"Are you sure you are fine?" asked Padmé, frowning.

"Um-hmm," I stifled a yawn. "How are you?"

"I'm well," Padmé said slowly—I could feel her scrutinizing me. "I'm sorry it took us so long—Lord Vetnis had quite a number of concerns."

"You mean he wouldn't stop whining," snorted Saché.

"It's fine. Got to catch up on some sleep, didn't I?" I tried to sound positive.

But I had a pit in my stomach that just wouldn't go away.

I had to get the 'replacement' thing sorted out before I was sick.

"So," I said, once again trying to sound upbeat, "Dormé seemed nice."

"Dormé's fantastic!" Saché said enthusiastically.

"Did you know that her mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother were all handmaidens too?" Yané piped up. "She's a _legacy_!"

"Really? That's fascinating." I fixed a smile on my face even as my stomach bottomed out.

Rabé frowned at me. "Sabé, are you sure you're okay? You really don't—"

Before she could finish, the door opened again.

"I have the chocolate, the rolls and—" Eirtaé stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me. "You look awful."

"Thanks, Eirtaé," I sighed, swiping at my face again in hopes that it would somehow make me look more presentable.

"Sabé fell asleep," Saché informed her, obviously amused.

Eirtaé rolled her eyes. "Of course she did," she sighed, as she dropped her armful of food onto the table. "Well, it was a long flight and I can't imagine your seat was very comfortable—you really should have let us fly you first class, you know."

I shook my head, "Unnecessary drain on resources. This was fine."

"Hmm," Eirtaé pursed her lips, obviously not agreeing, but, tactfully, she said nothing.

"So, what's the food for?" I asked.

Everyone stared at me. Then, they all exchanged glances.

"Sabé, why don't we go back to our room so you can drop your bag off?" Rabé suggested after a lengthy and horribly awkward pause—was this supposed to be some kind of good-bye dinner thing? But if it was, then why was I going to drop my bag off? Wouldn't I be packing?

My head ached.

"Why do you still have—?" Saché began, but she abruptly fell silent with a wince. Judging by Eirtaé's suspiciously close proximity, my guess was that Eirtaé had elbowed Saché in the stomach.

"Come on, Sabé." Rabé beckoned at me with a reassuring smile on her face.

I looked at all of my friends to see them frowning at me.

Cautiously, I picked up my bag and then walked around the table toward Rabé.

Rabé put a hand at my elbow and led me out of the conference room. She was treating me like I was made of glass.

"Sabé, what's going on?" Rabé asked as she led me down one of the lesser used hallways.

Her dark eyes were more worried than I'd seen them in a very long time.

"I—" I stopped. I had been going to say I was fine, but I wasn't and it was obviously noticeable. Besides, I had to confirm it—I had to know for sure. "Why am I being replaced? I mean, I know I was shot and—"

"What?" Rabé stopped dead in her tracks, gaping at me.

My face flushed and I began to shift uncomfortably. "Did I miss something really obvious?" I asked anxiously. "Is that why you're staring at me like that? I mean, is there like some sort of sub clause I don't know about, about injured handmaidens always having to be replaced or—"

"Sabé! No! What are you—You're not—!" Rabé rushed forward and swept me into a hug.

Feeling shaky and trying not to cry, I dropped my bag and hugged her back.

"Sabé, you silly, silly girl," Rabé said as we hugged. "You're not being replaced! Where did you even get that idea? Dormé was just covering until you returned. We'd never replace you! Ever!"

"But then—then why did I need an escort? And why was I led to the Swan Conference room? And why did Eirtaé have all that food?" I asked, not quite daring to feel relieved yet.

"Escort? What—Dormé was just getting you back to the palace because you didn't have a speeder and we weren't sure if you had enough credits on you to afford public transit! One of us would have gone, but Lord Vetnis has been causing some major problems. Padmé wanted us there to watch him because we have more experience reading people than Dormé. And we didn't actually expect you to wait in the conference room! We thought—maybe Dormé didn't explain it well—we just wanted to let you know that's where we'd meet you. You could have gone anywhere. Padmé wasn't trying to hem you in or anything because she wanted to tell you that you'd been fired! That wasn't it at all!"

I hugged Rabé tighter and cried.

I felt dizzy and slightly sick from all the worrying I'd been doing but mostly I just felt so, so relieved. I wasn't being kicked out. I'd still have a home and a job and my friends weren't disowning me because I hadn't managed to stop the assassins before they hurt anyone. I was still wanted. It was all just some huge misunderstanding. Just a misunderstanding.

I choked out a laugh, "If I wasn't feeling so relieved and happy right now, I think I'd feel like the biggest idiot in the galaxy!"

Rabé laughed too. "Feeling better?"

I took a step back, gave her a watery smile and nodded.

"Good," Rabé said decisively as she picked up my bag.

Together, we continued to head toward our rooms.

"So how was your trip?" Rabé asked.

"Awful," I told her, swiping at my eyes. "I don't ever want to see another crossword puzzle again in my life."

"You did crosswords the entire trip?" Rabé laughed, looking incredulous. "Why?"

"I didn't know what else to do! I hadn't any books and looking at hyperspace lines gets very dull very quickly. I think I know more about the galaxy now than anyone has a right to."

"You did Galactic crosswords?"

"The political ones were too easy."

Rabé laughed again. "Too easy? The political crosswords have the highest difficulty rating of any of them!"

"That's probably because most people who do them aren't in politics," I pointed out.

Rabé paused and then shrugged. "That's a very good point. But weren't the galactic puzzles boring?"

The rest of the trip to our rooms and then back to the conference room was filled with the same light and easy conversation that Rabé was so incredibly gifted at starting.

By the time we reached the Swan Conference room again, my previous panic had all but disappeared, I no longer felt embarrassed and I was once again starting to feel joyful about being back on Naboo, back in Theed, back at home.

"Are you being serious?" I asked gleefully.

"Perfectly," Rabé giggled. "And it wasn't even like it was a short song! Pilot Winí sang her all fourteen verses of _The Ballad of the Star-Crossed_!"

"And Eirtaé didn't kill him?" I asked, opening the door to the conference room.

"No! That's the best part! She looked like she thought it was cute!"

"And I missed it? That's not fair!"

"You _told _her?" Eirtaé demanded, sounding horrified.

I turned around to beam at her. "He's adorable! I'm telling you, Eirtaé, the pair of you are—" I stopped.

The Swan Conference room had somehow been turned into sleepover central during the time Rabé and I had been gone.

The table had been pushed off to the side of the room, replaced by piles of blankets and a wide spread of food—and most of the food were my favorites!

"Are those fresh?" I looked eagerly at the platter of rolls.

Saché laughed, "And _there's_ the Sabé we all know and love!"

"Does that mean yes?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, that means they're fresh," Padmé smiled.

"And we're having a sleepover?" I asked as I weaved my way through the blankets toward the best rolls in the galaxy.

"Of course," Yané answered, looking a little puzzled. "How else would we welcome you home?"

I beamed at all of them as I cradled my delicious roll. "Which blanket pile is—Oh! You grabbed my quilt!" I scrambled over to my blanket pile. I wrapped my quilt around my shoulders and stuffed the roll in my mouth, resisting the urge to give them a food filled grin as I did so.

"We thought you'd want it," Rabé replied, weaving her way over to her own pile of blankets.

"I missed it," I said sheepishly, once I had swallowed.

Saché laughed. "You missed the quilt but not us? Nice to know where we rate."

I rolled my eyes, "You know I missed you guys too. But," I looked at them slyly, "I got a chance to talk to you over the holonet. I didn't get to do that with my quilt."

Rabé, Saché and Padmé all laughed. Eirtaé rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile.

Yané frowned. "But why would you want to talk to your quilt? I can't imagine it'd be a very good conversationalist."

We all laughed even harder, while Yané just looked confused.

"She didn't want to talk to her quilt!" Saché threw a pillow in Yané's direction.

"Then what did—?" Yané began.

And the conversation only got more ridiculous from there. We laughed and giggled and discussed a multitude of fun and silly topics—ranging from Eirtaé's almost romance with the hopeless Pilot Ras Winí to which of Yané's new projects were slowly taking over our room to Jar Jar's latest disaster to the ridiculous adventures of Anakin and Obi-Wan—before moving on to more serious things—such as Lord Vetnis's possibly sinister goals in trying to discredit Queen Amidala, the trial for the two women who had attempted to assassinate the Queen, the upcoming election campaign, the flooding in Northern Naboo and, much to my embarrassment and discomfort, how afraid everyone had been when they saw me attacked.

We also ate a ridiculous amount of food.

Finally, though, we all settled into our piles of blankets, and turned the lights out. After a few more jokes and secrets shared, things began to quiet down. Next to me, I could hear Rabé's breathing become slower, and, next to her, I could see the faint outline of Yané's head completely buried under her pillow—the position she usually took when sleeping. On my other side, Eirtaé was already sound asleep, occasionally muttering something unintelligible to Saché on her other side, who, used to Eirtaé's sleep talking, had already thrown an arm over her ear to stifle the noise.

After several more minutes, only Padmé and I were awake.

We looked at each other from across the circle.

Very quietly she said, "I'm glad you're back, Sabé. It hasn't been the same without you."

I laughed just as quietly. "You missed the lock-picking lessons?" I joked.

I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, "Unbelievably enough, yes. The palace just wasn't the same without having to break into rooms because you had locked the keys and the codes inside."

I snickered. "Nothing like incompetence to make life a little more interesting."

"You are not incompetent, Sabé." Her voice became very solemn. "Actually, I've been meaning to—I want to—Thank you. Thank you, Sabé."

Padmé was being very serious about this.

I supposed I should be too, then, much as I wished the whole 'me almost dying' thing would just go away.

"I know I'm not completely incompetent," I sighed. "If I had been, the assassins would have almost killed you, not me. And you don't—well, I mean, you're welcome, I suppose, but please don't thank me, Padmé. It's—" I looked at her outline in the darkness, trying to articulate what it was I felt, what it was that was bothering me about all the attention people were trying to give me. "Padmé, protecting you is my job. Taking blaster bolts for you and getting slashed by a vibroblade—I knew what I was getting into when I decided to be a handmaiden. And I knew that I could die for the Queen and I accepted that before you had even won the election, before I was even picked to be a handmaiden. And now—Padmé, you're one of my best friends. I would jump in front of a blaster for you—or any of the girls, for that matter—even if it wasn't my duty to. You and the girls are like my sisters. And the palace is my home. Dying for you—that's not—I'd do it in a heartbeat and count my life well-spent, count my life well-lived. So, I don't—please don't thank me."

Padmé was quiet for a very long time. My eyes began to grow heavy, and I sunk deeper into my pillow, pulling my quilt tighter around me.

Finally, Padmé said, "I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you."

I yawned. "Bet you Eirtaé, Rabé, Saché and Yané would say and do the same thing I did."

"But they weren't the ones who nearly died."

"Don't think that matters much. You haven't gone and died for Naboo yet, but no one doubts that you would."

There was another long pause—my eyes flickered shut before I forced them back open—and then Padmé let out a small breath of laughter. "I am really happy that you're home, Sabé."

"Happy to be here," I answered sleepily.

The quilt was warm, the pillow was soft and my friends were all around me…

I drifted off to sleep.

**END PART I**

**Expected Update Time: Before March 4th, 2013**

**A/N: Um... normally these go in the beginning, but this isn't for this chapter, so much as it is for the entirety of Part II? So, uh... this is just your friendly reminder for Part II (which is longer and more plot-filled than Part I, I promise!). I'm sure you guys know this already because you're all unbelievably awesome but still... **

**REMINDER: Sabé is telling this story, not me. So, all opinions on characters and things are hers, not mine. Also, she's not perfect. Hopefully this has already gotten across, but yeah... this story is entirely in her thoughts, so we only get her side of things. So I just wanted to remind you. I'm probably making a much bigger deal of this than I should/need to, but ****you know... better safe than sorry? **

******Also, thanks to all of you guys for being unbelievably awesome and reading this thing. Also for reviewing it. It's super cool to hear from you and I appreciate it a lot :D Thanks! **

******Much Love, **

******Your Extremely Dorky and Paranoid Author**


	8. Sincerely yours, Sabé Reccen

**A/N: …and now for something completely different! (I'm a little worried…) (also: 100 reviews guys?! That's awesome! Thank you so much!)**

_To Die for the Republic_

_Interlude_

Interlude: Sincerely Yours, Sabé Reccen

It must be Peace Day back on Naboo, thirteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker thought as he studied the package on the table.

The dully wrapped present looked suspiciously like another basket of that gross fruit that turned blue. Anakin wrinkled his nose at it.

He knew Obi-Wan always said that he should be grateful the Naboo gave them anything at all, but Anakin thought he'd rather get nothing than another of those disgusting fruit baskets.

Of course, he didn't tell Obi-Wan that. He'd just get another lecture and Anakin got enough of those, thank you very much.

"Guess Sabé didn't convince them to give us something else after all," Anakin said glumly.

Obi-Wan gave him a reproving look, but thankfully didn't say anything. Instead, his Master just unwrapped the package to reveal—sure enough. A basket of gross fruit.

Anakin slumped further onto the table.

He'd been hoping that Sabé would manage to get him and Obi-Wan something really wizard, like, like—well, Anakin wasn't sure, but he'd been positive that Sabé would send them something even more awesome than anything he could think up.

It totally blew that she hadn't.

Not that Sabé probably hadn't tried really hard to send them something awesome. Sabé had said she'd try to and Anakin knew that Sabé wouldn't lie.

It just blew that she hadn't been able to.

"What's this?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly, knocking Anakin out of his gloomy thoughts.

He watched sullenly as Obi-Wan pulled out a sheet of flimsy.

"Dear Anakin and Obi-Wan," Obi-Wan read.

Anakin immediately perked up. Sabé had sent them a letter! Wizard!

"I'm sorry. I talked to Padmé and apparently it would be a huge diplomatic mess to try and change your gifts. So you're stuck with the Shuura fruit. On a positive note, though, I talked Yané into using a more traditional method of preservation so the fruit shouldn't turn blue! So that's good, right? Also, Padmé may have hinted that your fruit basket isn't really inspected very closely before it's sent out and that, if, by chance, some small unauthorized datachip was slipped into the fruit basket, it probably wouldn't be found. Not that I did that, of course! Anyway, I miss you both loads! I hope you're having tons of interesting adventures! Sincerely Yours, Sabé Reccen, Royal Handmaiden to Queen Amidala of the Naboo." Obi-Wan chuckled and shook his head at the letter.

Anakin ignored the letter completely and instead pulled the fruit basket towards him. He eagerly began to search the basket for the datachip that Sabé had obviously found a way to slip in.

After taking out three of the fruit—which, strangely, hadn't turned blue yet—he found it.

"Look!" Anakin announced gleefully, showing Obi-Wan his prize. "I think it's a holovid!"

After several moments of rummaging around, Obi-Wan had set up the holoprojector and Anakin had figured out how to activate the datachip.

A holovid popped up, just as Anakin had thought it would, showing six handmaidens wearing dark purple hooded cloaks.

Anakin watched with avid interest as they introduced the vid—he was pretty sure that Padmé was the handmaiden in the middle and that Sabé was to her right—and then with ill-concealed glee as the handmaidens revealed that they had each made a different section of the holovid.

The first section was Padmé's and it was definitely Anakin's favorite. The video switched from the line of handmaidens to a pretty garden with a railing. Padmé sat in the garden and talked about the palace of Naboo and then told some traditional Naboo stories. The stories were really good and Padmé looked just as beautiful as Anakin remembered and sounded just as kind. It felt like she was talking only to him. Also, the garden seemed pretty awesome.

The second section was Eirtaé's. Eirtaé's section was made up of a whole ton of different, shorter vids of the handmaidens in a bunch of official places doing a bunch of official things. Eirtaé's voice narrated over the images. She spent her section talking about the long tradition of etiquette in Naboo and why it was so important. Anakin thought it was pretty boring, but Obi-Wan seemed to find it interesting.

Next was Yané's section. Like Eirtaé's, it was a series of smaller vids combined into one. Only Yané actually appeared in each of the vids. Each smaller vid featured some place in Naboo where something strange and interesting had happened in the past. Anakin laughed a lot as Yané delivered in deadpan some of the strangest stories Anakin had ever heard, while Obi-Wan grinned at the jokes and seemed to be genuinely interested and amused by the history he was learning.

Saché's section had been hijacked by Jar Jar Binks. Saché seemed to have originally planned to just show some Gungan cities and talk about the diplomatic relationship between the Gungans and the Naboo. Instead, Anakin watched in delight and Obi-Wan in amused horror as Saché ended up filming Jar Jar accidentally knocking out Governor Bibble, tripping and accidentally destroying a shrine, and a cleverly cut montage of other diplomatic disasters caused by Jar Jar. In every scene, Anakin could hear Saché trying and failing to stop herself from laughing. Cheery music played in the background.

Next, Rabé gave them a tour of her family farm. Anakin enjoyed watching it, but couldn't quite ignore the way his heart hurt as he did. Rabé spent a lot of time talking and joking with her huge family. Even though Rabé's family was a lot bigger than Anakin's, it still reminded him of how he and Mom had used to talk and laugh back on Tatooine. Anakin tried to ignore it because he knew that as a Jedi he wasn't supposed to miss Mom. But he didn't think it was working because at the end of the section, he had a lump in his throat.

Luckily, it was Sabé's section next, so Anakin's throat lump quickly went away. Sabé took them on a tour of Theed, interviewing random people she met on the street. She asked them incredibly bizarre questions to see their reactions and hear their answers. Sabé also kept in all of the mistakes that she made while filming—such as tripping and falling flat on her face in a mud puddle, getting yelled at by a shop keeper for not taking things seriously enough and the completely serious argument she got in with a pilot about whether the dragon or the egg came first. Anakin laughed so hard that his stomach hurt. Next to him, Obi-Wan laughed nearly as hard.

Finally, all the handmaidens wished them a happy Peace Day and the holovid came to an end.

Anakin turned to look at Obi-Wan, grinning madly.

Obi-Wan grinned back. "I'd say Sabé came through, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"Definitely!" Anakin beamed. "I can't _wait_ until next Peace Day!"

OoO

"It's Peace Day," Obi-Wan stuck his head into fourteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker's room.

Anakin looked up from the droid he was fixing and frowned at Obi-Wan. What did—oh!

"Did we get something else from Sabé?" asked Anakin eagerly, standing up.

Obi-Wan smiled at him. "I wouldn't know. I haven't opened it yet."

"Well, come on then!" Anakin bounded into the kitchen and over to the dull looking package on the table.

It was still shaped like a fruit basket, but Anakin was sure that Sabé had put something really good inside again!

Anakin tore the package open while Obi-Wan sat down at the kitchen table.

Sure enough, it was another fruit basket. However, there was a piece of flimsy sticking slightly above the fruit.

Anakin quickly freed it from the basket and looked down at the untidy script. Then, he began to read it aloud. "Dear Anakin and Obi-Wan," Anakin began, his heart racing in excitement.

The holovid from the last Peace Day was one of Anakin's very favorite things. He knew he wasn't supposed to get attached to possessions and everything, but Obi-Wan seemed to like the holovid nearly as much as Anakin did and Obi-Wan was a sickeningly perfect Jedi. So it couldn't be that bad that Anakin had started watching the holovid whenever he felt really lonely or sad or angry.

It reminded Anakin that he _had_ friends—that Sabé and Padmé were his friends, even if they were on another planet. It reminded him that people cared about him, even though sometimes it felt like no one on Coruscant did, not even Obi-Wan.

Anakin _liked_ that holovid, and he was sure that whatever Sabé had sent now would be equally good.

"Happy Peace Day!" Anakin continued reading, "I hope you enjoyed your non-blue Shuura fruit last year! Because, this year, Yané created a new preservation chemical and decided to try it on the fruit again. It smelled disgusting when she was making it, so, for the sake of your continued health and well-being, I would recommend not eating the fruit this year."

"That's not much of a loss," Obi-Wan commented.

Anakin shared a quick smile with his master—they both agreed that even when the fruit didn't turn blue, it was still disgusting.

Anakin kept reading, "Anyway, after much discussion, persuasion and some seriously sneaky moves on my part, I managed to get you something bigger and better than a datachip. I got Wicaté to make you Peace Day hats! They're at the very bottom of the fruit basket—you just have to open the packaging and then you can both wear them every Peace Day for the rest of your lives. Go ahead, right now, open them and put them on! Then you can read the rest of the letter."

Anakin looked up expectantly. Obi-Wan was already digging through the fruit basket. After a moment, he pulled out a flat package that was poorly but cheerfully and colorfully wrapped.

"Do you want to open it?" Obi-Wan offered.

Anakin nodded vigorously, throwing down the letter and grabbing the package. He tore it open enthusiastically—and then he froze.

In the package were two hats. Anakin picked one up and stared at it.

It was the brightest red Anakin had ever seen. The hat—if you could even call it that, Anakin thought in growing horror—had two long flat pieces of fabric coming out of the sides. They were floppy and fell down on either side of the hat. At the end of each of the flaps were three golden bells.

Hesitantly, Anakin poked the bells. They chimed merrily.

The top of the hat was, if possible, even odder. A long sheet of flat fabric stuck straight out of the hat at least a foot above the wearer's head. It was decorated with gaudy gold and silver embroidery depicting lopsided Gungans waving spears, identical humans waving about vibroblades and tiny, incorrectly colored waterfalls interspersed between the human and Gungan warriors.

Anakin had never seen anything stupider looking in his life.

He looked up, planning to share an incredulous look with Obi-Wan—only to find that his master was already wearing the other hat.

"Well?" Obi-Wan asked him expectantly. "What are you waiting for? Put on your hat and keep reading!"

Anakin gaped. But when Obi-Wan continued to stare at him expectantly, the hat firmly on his head, Anakin reluctantly put his own hat on and then, feeling like an idiot, continued to read the letter.

"Are they on yet? Aren't they the silliest looking things you've ever seen? Now, imagine the entire planet of Naboo wearing them! That is exactly what happens every Peace Day. It is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen. I'm not sure what the significance of the hat is—something about combining the two cultures, maybe? I don't know; I didn't listen when Eirtaé and Wicaté tried to explain it to me; I was too busy trying not to laugh in their faces—but everyone, both Gungans and Naboo, wear them on Peace Day, for the entire day. Now, you'll be able to join in on the fun too! Or, at the very least, you'll be able to laugh at each other! Miss you both loads and I hope you have lots to laugh about! Sincerely Yours, Sabé Reccen, Royal Handmaiden to Queen Amidala of the Naboo."

Anakin looked up at his master.

Obi-Wan serenely stared back at him. Obi-Wan looked completely ridiculous. A smile began to twitch at Anakin's mouth. Obi-Wan's eyes were dancing. They kept staring at each other. As one, they burst out laughing.

Maybe this wasn't as good as the holovid, Anakin thought as he and his master roared with laughter, but he and Obi-Wan hadn't laughed together in a really long time. And it felt nice.

OoO

"It's Peace Day, Obi-Wan!" Fifteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker announced as he strolled into the kitchen.

"Yes, my young Padawan," Obi-Wan sighed, "I am well-aware of—" As Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad, he froze.

Anakin grinned at him. "Yeah? Then why aren't you wearing your Peace Day hat?"

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment longer.

Anakin, his Peace Day hat firmly on his head, relished the disbelieving look on his master's face. Then, he threw Obi-Wan's Peace Day hat at him.

Obi-Wan caught it wordlessly.

"Well?" Anakin asked, producing a dully wrapped package that looked suspiciously like a fruit basket from behind his back. "Aren't you going to wear yours so that we can open this?"

A smile twitched on Obi-Wan's face and Anakin watched in satisfaction as Obi-Wan put his datapad away, donned his hat and looked at Anakin expectantly.

Anakin put the package on the table.

"It's your turn to open it and read the letter," Anakin informed his master.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "Is it now?"

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan pulled the package over and opened it. He removed the piece of flimsy from the fruit basket.

"Dear Anakin and Obi-Wan," Obi-Wan read, "Happy Peace Day! Once again, I'm afraid I'm going to have to warn you away from the fruit. Saché poked fun of Yané's funny smelling creation so much that Yané decided to try and create another preservative, this one better smelling. I don't think the preservative works, but our room smelled like chocolate and caf for a week, so I'm not complaining!"

"Ugh, look!" Anakin pointed at the fruit, which he had just looked at closely for the first time.

Obi-Wan turned away from the letter to examine the fruit. He looked just as disgusted as Anakin felt.

The fruit had become completely wrinkled—and long bugs were starting to climb out of it.

"Wonderful," Obi-Wan sighed. "We should probably dispose of that."

"But what about the present?" Anakin argued. "You know it's in the basket somewhere!"

Obi-Wan appeared to consider the problem for a moment and then said, "Let's finish reading the letter and then we can decide what to do about the basket and the present." Without waiting for Anakin's reply, Obi-Wan continued to read, "But seriously, I wouldn't eat it. In any case, I wasn't really sure what could top the Peace Day hats in terms of gifts, so I went in a different direction. I know that Jedi can't really have possessions—that you donate them. But I hope you don't have to donate this. It's a little more expensive than the last two presents have been, but it's the people of Naboo. And considering that you both helped saved them, I thought you deserved to see them. But, in any case, miss you both loads! I hope you are getting to meet tons of interesting people! Sincerely Yours, Sabé Reccen, Royal Handmaiden to Queen Amidala of the Naboo."

"We can't throw the present out," said Anakin flatly, trying not to feel too annoyed with his master. He wasn't supposed to be annoyed on Peace Day. He was supposed to be happy and excited.

Obi-Wan frowned at the fruit basket and then at the letter.

"I suppose not." Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment and then, "We have some gloves for when we clean the kitchen. Why don't you put those on and find the present? Then you can throw the basket out."

"Me?" asked Anakin, outraged. "Why not you?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Because you are the one who is so excited about it."

Anakin scoffed. "Oh, come on, Master! You like Sabé's gifts just as much as I do!"

"Be that as it may…"

The argument continued for several more minutes.

Anakin lost.

Feeling grumpy, Anakin pulled out the gloves, dug through the bug infested basket and removed the small, brightly wrapped package from where it was hidden underneath the disgusting fruit. Anakin stomped out of his and Obi-Wan's apartment to dispose of the basket in a place that wouldn't lead to the Jedi Temple becoming infested by bugs. Although, Anakin thought moodily, maybe if he let the temple get overrun by insects, Obi-Wan wouldn't force him to do stupid stuff like this.

When he returned to the apartment, the present was still sitting on the table and Obi-Wan was looking through his datapad again.

As Anakin walked behind his master, he snatched up the datapad.

"No datapads on Peace Day," Anakin informed his master irritably.

Peace Day was a day to look at Sabé's presents and joke and laugh with each other. It was not a day to look up more information on boring things like, like—oh, Anakin didn't even know what boring stuff his master liked to waste his time on! It didn't matter anyway because Obi-Wan wasn't going to waste his time on it on Peace Day.

Even if he had to hide Obi-Wan's datapad to ensure it!

As Anakin walked back to his seat at the table, he picked up the present. The wrappings felt slightly sticky, but Anakin opened the present anyway.

"What is it?" Anakin asked, frowning at the small object.

It was metal. The bottom was flat, so that it could be placed on a flat surface, and the top was curved like a dome. There was one small black button near the bottom of the dome.

"Why don't you press the button and find out?" Obi-Wan suggested mildly.

Anakin rolled his eyes—he'd been planning on doing that; he'd just wanted to know if Obi-Wan knew what it was, not get unnecessary and unwanted advice—before pressing the button.

The dome made a small humming sound and, then, suddenly, projected above the dome was a holopic of a grinning little girl in front of what appeared to be the Triumphal Arch in Naboo.

Anakin frowned. What in the galaxy was—

The holopic changed. Rabé, Saché and Yané were suddenly smiling up at him, their arms interlocked as they stood in a palace hallway.

Then an elderly woman at a fruit stand was staring at them.

Next, a group of children playing tag, a teenager jumping off the top of a small waterfall into a lake, a baby crawling across the floor with a toothless grin, Captain Panaka sparring with a handmaiden, a couple waltzing on a rooftop, two Gungans disappearing under the water, Queen Amidala staring out a window with the city of Theed stretched out below her, two Gungan children playing foursquare with two Naboo children, Yané carefully adding something to a test tube, Eirtaé showing a young girl in fancy clothes the proper way to curtsy, an elderly Gungan couple holding hands, a middle-aged woman pulling rolls out of the oven, a group of pilots playing Sabacc in front of their ships, Sabé looking over her shoulder and laughing, a girl in a hover chair scowling heavily in a room full of fabrics and elaborate dresses, a group of Naboo and Gungans wearing Peace Day hats as they danced in a public square, Governor Bibble and Queen Amidala addressing a large crowd of people, Boss Nass talking to Captain Tarpals while Jar Jar Binks knocked a vase to the ground, a dark haired girl sitting on a railing above a thousand foot drop, a bonfire surrounded by teenagers, Padmé and Rabé laughing as Yané explained something with wild hand gestures…

The holopics kept coming.

Enthralled, Anakin watched them.

OoO

Sixteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker trudged down the hallway, his master limping behind him.

"Well that was fun," Anakin said sarcastically.

"Oh yes," Obi-Wan agreed drily. "There is truly nothing like falling into a nest of Gundarks to liven up a mission."

"I can't believe you did that, Master," Anakin muttered, trying not to remember how terrified he'd been when he found out what had happened to Obi-Wan.

"Oh, yes, my young padawan. Falling into that nest was actually a very clever plot that I developed in order to further your Jedi skills and not at all an unfortunate accident," answered Obi-Wan.

Anakin huffed, "And you say _I _attract trouble."

"As I recall, the reason we were in that particular part of the forest in the first place was because you—" Obi-Wan began as he reached across Anakin to open their apartment door.

As the door opened, though, Obi-Wan fell silent.

Anakin frowned at his master before walking forward to see what had surprised him.

Sitting on their kitchen table was a package shaped suspiciously like a fruit basket.

"It's Peace Day already?" Anakin asked incredulously.

Several minutes later, Anakin and Obi-Wan had their Peace Day hats on and their fruit basket unwrapped.

Anakin read the letter: "Dear Anakin and Obi-Wan, Happy Peace Day! As usual, please don't eat the fruit. Yané—well, essentially, Yané is hopeless at chemistry and it's a good thing she prefers physics. However, she is refusing to admit that her chemistry is beyond help and that she will never perfect the chemical food preservation process. Because of that, I'm afraid that, per usual, these shuura fruit are not fit for consumption. So, since you have only once received any normal shuura fruit, I've decided that the gift this year will make up for that! Since Padmé's second term as Queen is almost up, I've been experimenting with different jobs I might be interested in after I retire from handmaidenship. At the moment, I'm thinking of being an artist—and you two will get one of my first pieces of artwork! I hope you'll like it. Rabé said that she'd teach me how to paint and has guaranteed that I'll at least have the basics down in time for me to make you your Peace Day gift! So I should definitely be painting something decent for the two of you to hang on your wall. Or in the Jedi temple somewhere, if that's how this turns out. In any case, like always, I miss you both loads. But I hope you're learning just as much as I am! Sincerely Yours, Sabé Reccen, Royal Handmaiden to Queen Amidala of the Naboo."

Anakin watched as Obi-Wan dug through the fruit basket—the fruit all a lurid orange and smelling strangely of disinfectant—for their present. Anakin didn't think it was possible to top last year's present—the holopic viewer was located in a place of honor in the Kenobi-Skywalker apartment and Anakin looked at it at least twice a day when he was home—but Anakin was sure it would still be pretty great. Sabé's presents always were.

Obi-Wan unwrapped the small, flat present and then his eyebrows shot up comically. Without even seeing the gift, Anakin grinned. As Obi-Wan began to laugh, he showed Anakin the present.

It was, quite possibly, the worst painting of a shuura fruit basket that Anakin had ever seen. Sabé obviously agreed with his assessment of the painting as at the very top of the painting were the words: "The Worst Fruit Basket Ever Painted, Because Still-Life is Ridiculous and Rabé is a Liar".

All the parts of the painting had also been carefully labeled with arrows, which was good, because otherwise Anakin didn't think he'd know what any of it was.

Shaking with laughter, Anakin finally got out, "Somehow, I don't think Sabé has a future as an artist!"

Obi-Wan shook his head and, together, they laughed even harder, for a moment forgetting about their somewhat disastrous mission.

Anakin loved Peace Day.

OoO

Seventeen-year-old Anakin Skywalker slowly flipped through the drawings that he and Obi-Wan had found in their Peace Day fruit basket.

Like always, Sabé had warned them that the fruit would be inedible.

Unlike always, Sabé had also sadly informed them that this would be her last Peace Day as a Royal Handmaiden, so she wouldn't be able to sneak them any more Peace Day gifts. This was the last one.

As last gifts went, Anakin thought, it was a good one.

Sabé and Padmé had instigated a planet wide competition for all Naboo schools. This competition had all of the children drawing pictures of what Peace Day meant to them, with small one or two sentence explanations on the back of the pictures.

Then, the winning picture from each of the 134 regions in Naboo had been sent to Obi-Wan and Anakin. Some of the pictures were funny, some were sweet, and some were startlingly earnest.

All of them made Anakin proud and happy to be Obi-Wan's padawan and proud and happy to be a Jedi. It reminded him that, as frustrated as he got sometimes with his master and the Council and the Jedi in general, he was doing good. He was helping people.

And he wouldn't change that for anything.

**Expected Update Time: Before April 4****th**** (Life got busy again… *sigh*)**


	9. Wedding

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part_ _II: In Which Sabé is Alive_

Chapter 1: Wedding

Clutching my datapads to my chest, I fought against the crush of people, trying to remind myself that I liked Coruscant.

I did.

Although, I though grumpily as someone rammed into me and then cussed me out, there were definitely some things I missed about Naboo.

The presence of polite people, for one thing.

"Why is it," I asked Eirtaé with a huff, "that no one on Coruscant seems to have heard of basic courtesy?

"Coruscant has a very different culture than Naboo does," Eirtaé began.

I could see her start to get into lecture mode and decided to cut it off before I could be thoroughly informed on how Coruscant's culture was created and what that meant for its etiquette.

"Can't say I'm a big fan of the cultural difference," I informed her.

Eirtaé snorted. "I can't say that I am either. It seems so… so crude."

"At least they have good food," I said as I pushed open the door to the Coruscant Crumbly Café.

"There is that," agreed Eirtaé.

We strolled up to the counter and smiled at Willie, the cashier.

"Hello, Eirtaé, Sabé," Willie said with a friendly smile. "The usual?"

"You know it," I grinned, fishing in my pockets for the exact credits.

Ten minutes later, Eirtaé and I were seated at our usual table in the back corner of the café next to the window.

"So, today," Eirtaé began as I started to spread my datapads across my half of the table, "we're not doing homework."

I paused. Then, I frowned and stared at her. "We're not? But we always do homework."

"Yes, well," Eirtaé said with a smile, "today, we're going to do something a little more interesting."

"But," I began, "this is my homework time. This is really the only time I have to do homework—"

Eirtaé waved me off. "Don't be ridiculous, Sabé. Padmé doesn't have anything big coming up for at least a week and Cordé, Versé and Dormé are more than capable of handling most of it on their own, so long as you tell them in advance."

I stared at her. However much I didn't want to admit it, she was right.

Ever since Padmé had become the Senator for the Chommel sector I had been less busy than I was used to, even with the three classes I was taking at Coruscant University.

As a senator, Padmé still needed handmaidens. She just needed less of them and she needed them for different things.

I was the only handmaiden from Padmé's tenure as Queen who was still with her.

Eirtaé was a full-time student at Coruscant University, working on getting her Advanced degree in Intergalactic Business Relations, with the eventual goal of taking over her father's intergalactic corporation. Rabé and Saché had successfully opened their own flower and trinket shop in Theed and Yané was working as a physicist with a research facility back on Naboo.

When Padmé had stepped down as Queen, I still hadn't the faintest idea of what I wanted to do with my life. It had been a relief when Padmé had been asked to become Senator and even more of a relief when she had basically begged me to stay with her as her head handmaiden.

The role of a Senator's Handmaiden was different from the role of a Royal Handmaiden and the role of a Senator's Head Handmaiden was different yet.

As a Royal Handmaiden, I had been in charge of making sure Padmé was dressed and ready for the day in her royal make-up and fancy outfits as well as ensuring that she was properly protected. I had also been in charge of making sure that she knew the feelings and opinions of the court, the everyday people of Naboo and, if we could swing it, her political rivals.

We Royal Handmaidens had, on occasion, quietly acted as servants at important meetings and dinners in order to report back what we had heard and seen to the Queen, so that she could act on the information. We had helped her draft bills, were sometimes sent on diplomatic missions in her name and were, essentially, her advisors, personal servants, bodyguards, research assistants, personal spies, and whatever else she might need us to be on any given day. We were on the clock every minute of every day and always at hand so that we could do whatever it was the Queen required.

Senatorial Handmaidens, on the other hand, had a more specific set of duties. The main duty of a Senatorial Handmaiden was security. They were bodyguards and worked closely with security personnel in order to ensure the Senator's safety. Secondly, the Senatorial Handmaidens acted as secretaries, scheduling all of the Senator's appointments, taking messages, making reservations and ensuring that her work life went as smoothly as possible so that she could be as effective as possible. And, most of the time, that was it.

The Head Senatorial Handmaiden was essentially the boss of the other Handmaidens.

As the Head Senatorial Handmaiden, I made our schedules. Currently, because all four of us were pretty much equally competent as secretaries and bodyguards, we rotated. Two handmaidens were assigned to protection detail and one was assigned to secretarial detail. Usually, I was the fourth handmaiden and was stuck preparing the records, overseeing everything and completing odd jobs. I also read all of the reports the other three handmaidens made, looked over and approved all of their security plans, dealt with all major problems with scheduling and, essentially, was very boring while preparing a lot of records.

Luckily, as Head Senatorial Handmaiden, I was also more than capable of inserting myself into the protection detail and the secretarial detail on occasion. This kept me from going completely mad and also gave one of the other handmaidens the opportunity to have the day off.

Being the Head Senatorial Handmaiden also meant that I was at complete liberty to inform Versé, Cordé and Dormé—the three Senatorial Handmaidens—that I'd be taking the day off and that they should only contact me if they really needed something.

However, I didn't really like the feeling of being their boss and disliked it even more when I felt like I was abusing my position to make my own life easier at the expense of their lives.

"Eirtaé, you know I don't like…" I began.

"Sabé, you're going to be the maid of honor in my wedding," Eirtaé interrupted me.

I gaped at her. "Pardon?"

Eirtaé rolled her eyes at me and pulled out a datapad. She set it in the middle of the table and then pulled up a page entitled 'Eirtaé Anidale and Ras Winí's Wedding Party'.

Neatly listed were all the positions in the wedding party and next to the position 'Maid of Honor' was written: 'Sabé Reccen'.

"Um, isn't it customary to _ask_ me if I want to be your maid of honor?" I asked.

Eirtaé rolled her eyes again. "If I'd asked you, you would have said no. So I just didn't ask. Anyway, today is wedding planning day. Ras and I have set a date—and before you go all 'but what if I have to work that day?' on me, Padmé's in the wedding party too." She pointed at the position 'Bridesmaid #4' which had 'Padmé Naberrie Amidala' written across from it. "So we're already working around her schedule, which is your schedule."

"Are you sure I'm qualified to be your Maid of Honor? Don't you think Rabé would be a better choice?" I asked, my head whirling.

"I considered her but, as you'll recall, you were the one who kept pestering me to date Ras. You were also the one who told him my name and insisted that we would be an, and I quote, 'adorably hilarious couple'. So Ras and I thought you'd be the best choice. Now," said Eirtaé as she briskly moved onto discussing the wedding, "Rabé, Yané and Saché are also going to be bridesmaids. For groomsmen, we have Ric Olie, Christoph Sevena, Ras's brother Tullé, and Tom Lumerrie. The Best Man will be Quinton Jans."

"I have to walk down the aisle with Jans? Really?" I groaned.

Eirtaé laughed. "Yes, Sabé. Really. In any case, that's all settled, so we don't have to worry about it. What I thought we should try and figure out today was venues—there are a number of places Ras and I agreed on, but we couldn't narrow it down—and a color scheme for the wedding. Once we get that sorted, we can figure out how we want to break down the organization of the rest of the wedding."

I stared at her for a moment.

I was going to be the maid of honor in Eirtaé's wedding. Not only was Eirtaé getting married to the man of her dreams (they'd been engaged for over a month now, but it still made me feel slightly giddy—I had been so right about the two of them!), but I was also going to help her plan her wedding.

A big grin spread across my face.

"Well then! Let's get started!"

Eirtaé smirked at me. "I knew you'd see reason. Now, we're considering five places…"

And we were off.

An hour later, we were still at it.

"But, Eirtaé, look—you're _fancy_. You're—you're—you're not an outdoor wedding, Eirtaé, no matter how gorgeous the gazebo is," I tried to explain to her.

"I could be an outdoor wedding!" said Eirtaé defensively.

"No, you couldn't. You're—look at this. Just—seriously look at this." I clipped through the datapad back to the holopics of the Monastery. "Can't you just picture it? You in a beautiful, magnificent dress, Ras standing at the front, a choir in the balcony? Doesn't that just _scream_ 'Eirtaé' to you?"

"No. I mean—Yes, it has me written all over it. But Ras? Ras would—" Eirtaé snorted. "Ras would accidentally destroy all of the priceless antiques the monks keep in the monastery."

I paused for a moment and thought it over. Then I grinned.

"Okay, then! That's the monastery out. That leaves us with—what? Two venues?"

"I suppose the gazebo isn't really me," admitted Eirtaé.

"Perfect!" I beamed. "That only leaves us with…" I checked the list, "The Beckinsdale Inn!"

Eirtaé bit her lip. "Let's do the holo tour again to make sure…"

And we once again lost ourselves in wedding talk.

Another hour passed.

"Okay," I recapped, "So, you're going to call the Beckinsdale Inn to confirm your reservation and the wedding colors are going to be varying shades of purple and gray."

"Yes," Eirtaé nodded decisively.

"This is going to be fantastic," I grinned.

Eirtaé beamed back.

I laughed as, together, we began to gather up our things. "I just can't believe there's going to be a—" I froze. "Obi-Wan? Anakin?"

"Sabé?" answered Anakin, sounding just as surprised as I felt.

"Is that—my heavens! Ani? You're so tall! Sabé, why didn't you mention how tall he'd grown?" demanded Eirtaé, whirling on me accusingly.

"Eirtaé? You're here too?" Anakin asked incredulously. "Since when have you been on Coruscant? Obi-Wan, it's—"

"So I see. Hello, Eirtaé, Sabé," Obi-Wan answered as he walked over to our table at the very back of the café, giving both of us a warm smile. Anakin trailed behind him. As usual, my heart flipped at the sight of Obi-Wan. I did my best to ignore it. (_How are you __**not**__ over this crush yet, you silly little idiot_?)

Both Anakin and Obi-Wan were, strangely, wearing ordinary clothes as opposed to Jedi robes. Their lightsabers were nowhere in sight.

"And—" Eirtaé turned to me in disbelief, "You weren't lying about the beard?"

I stared at her. "Why would I lie about Obi-Wan having grown a beard?"

"Well, I certainly don't know, but you have to admit that your sense of humor is a little baffling at times."

"So you thought I'd—I didn't lie about the beard, Eirtaé! And I did mention that Anakin had grown."

"You laughed when you talked about the beard! I assumed that you were laughing because you thought you were making some sort of a joke. And you said that Anakin was now taller than you and then you talked about how upset it made you. You did not say that little Ani was now taller than Ambassador Kenobi!"

"Oh, dreadfully sorry. Suppose I should have made myself a little clearer. Eirtaé, Obi-Wan Kenobi has grown a beard, which is a very serious matter and not at all amusing. Also, little Ani Skywalker is now taller than most human beings. It's a bit frightening. Was that better?"

"Oh, don't make fun of me! I haven't seen them in ten years! This is a bit shocking!"

"You know, for not having seen them in ten years, you sure are being awfully rude to them."

"Well, when on Coruscant, the proper etiquette requires us to do as the Coruscantis do! And the Coruscantis are rude!" Eirtaé retorted.

However, she did turn her attention back to Anakin and Obi-Wan. They had been watching our exchange with what appeared to be a cross between surprise and amusement.

She smiled at them. "It's wonderful to see you both again. How are you?"

"Very well," Obi-Wan answered at the same time Anakin grumbled, "Tall, apparently."

While Obi-Wan turned to give his padawan a very speaking glance, I snickered.

"What are you two doing here?" asked Anakin, ignoring his master entirely.

"Usually we work on homework, but today was wedding day!" I told them cheerfully.

"We decided where the wedding would be held and the color theme for it," Eirtaé expanded helpfully.

"You're getting married?" Anakin asked me in disbelief.

I gawked at him and Eirtaé snickered.

"No! No, Ani, Sabé's not getting married—she's my maid of honor," Eirtaé told him between her giggles.

"Stars! I'm not getting married! Obviously I'm not! I don't even have a boyfriend!" I spluttered.

"Do you come here often?" Obi-Wan asked.

Eirtaé and I blinked at him for a moment, trying to wrap our heads around the subject change.

"Every week. We have since the semester started at the University," answered Eirtaé slowly.

"We work on our homework. They have really brilliant croissants here," I added, looking between Anakin and Obi-Wan, trying to figure out what was going on. No lightsabers, street clothes, strange changes of subject…

"Are there any other regulars?" asked Anakin.

Eirtaé and I frowned at each other. She had clearly come to the same conclusion I had: Undercover Jedi Work.

Strange.

"Um… lots," I answered. "Most of the customers are, I think."

"Willie, the cashier, would probably know better than us. He's here every weekday and every other weekend," Eirtaé said.

"He knows the regulars by name, too," I added.

Anakin's eyes narrowed. "Does he?" he said flatly.

"Is something going on?" I asked.

"You could say that, I suppose," Obi-Wan answered. "Has Willie ever seemed…_strange _to you?"

Eirtaé and I exchanged glances. Wordlessly, we decided that she'd make the better report.

"Sabé and I have been coming here every week on the same day, at the same time, for the last two standard months. Willie's been here every time," Eirtaé began with a smile that didn't match her words. It was clearly for the benefit of anyone trying to discover what our conversation was about.

She went on to—quietly, so no one would overhear, even though the café was noisy enough that it wasn't likely anyone would anyway—report on his work habits, his personality quirks, the two people who visited him on a semi-regular basis, all the life details he'd told us, his familiarity with the goings-on of the Senate, his easy-goingness, his gift for remembering faces and personal life details. She mentioned his propensity to scowl whenever the Jedi were brought up and his too-common view that the Jedi were an unnecessary drain on Republic resources and that they needed to be better controlled. Finally, she told them that he was allergic to gluten and that he hadn't seemed surprised to discover that both Eirtaé and I were armed, despite most people being entirely taken aback upon discovering two tiny females concealing blasters on their persons.

Obi-Wan and Anakin both listened intently.

Then, Obi-Wan gave us a smile.

"Thank you. That was incredibly informative," he said.

"Not at all," I responded, slowly gathering up my datapads.

"We're glad we could help," Eirtaé agreed, picking up her bag and datapad.

"Anyway," I said as I stood up, "We really have to get going. I'm expected back at Padmé's apartment within the hour and Eirtaé has a study group she has to get to."

"Sorry we couldn't talk more," Anakin said.

Eirtaé smiled at him. "It was nice to see both of you. It's good to know you're doing well."

"Yeah, it really is," I agreed as Eirtaé and I slowly began to leave the café.

"We're still on for the contest, right?" Anakin called after us.

I laughed in delighted surprise.

I had sent Anakin and Obi-Wan funny Peace Day gifts for the rest of Padmé's term as Queen. Coming up with Peace Day gifts for them had been so much fun that one day, on a whim, I decided that I would continue to send them gifts despite Padmé no longer being in office. Only, this time, they'd be as funny and strange as I could make them and, instead of sending them on Peace Day, I'd send them whenever I stumbled across something worth sharing.

Because of the Jedi policy of not having possessions and the decreasing size of my pocket book, I ended up changing my 'gifts' into holopics of funny things I saw in daily life, as opposed to actual funny objects. That way, I could still share my amusement with them while not violating the Jedi Code too much all while saving myself a lot of credits.

I hadn't been sure if they had enjoyed the strange holopics I'd been sending them, until one day, out of the blue, I received a letter from Anakin containing a holopic of a clock that appeared to be melting.

Since then, Anakin and I had been in competition—with the rules officially laid down during one of the very few times we had a chance to catch lunch together—to see who could send who the oddest holopic.

I was winning.

"We sure are. I'm not giving up while I'm in the lead!" I teased over my shoulder.

Anakin looked outraged. Obi-Wan appeared to be politely confused.

I just laughed gleefully and waved as Eirtaé and I left the café.

**Expected Update Time: Before 4/19/13 (...although maybe earlier...you never know, I guess...)**


	10. Traffic

**WARNING(ish): This chapter might be closer to a 'T' rating than a 'K plus' rating, but it's not anything worse than what you'd see in one of the Star Wars movies... but, eh, thought I'd mention it just in case. (A/N: Also, this chapter is out of my comfort zone, so any feedback-what worked, what did not work, what almost worked but not really-would be even more appreciated than usual)  
**

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part_ _II: In Which Sabé is Alive_

Chapter 2: Traffic

Cordé yawned hugely as she trudged across the senatorial apartment.

"See you tomorrow," she mumbled as she slouched past.

I smiled at her. "Good-bye, Cordé. Thanks again for agreeing to cover for me."

She gave me a shy smile before yawning again. "'Course, Sabé."

"Good-bye, Cordé," Dormé said once it became clear that Cordé was just going to pass by without another word.

Cordé jumped a bit and flushed. "Oh. Bye, Dormé."

She quickly left the apartment, her gaze firmly on her feet.

I sighed. "Do you have to draw attention to it?" I asked Dormé wearily.

Dormé seemed confused and politely asked, "I beg your pardon? Draw attention to what?"

I felt like screaming 'Cordé's shyness, you moron!' but resisted. A good supervisor did not yell at their supervisees for simple, mostly harmless, differences in opinion.

Just because I thought the best way to combat Cordé's shyness was to be as friendly, kind and open as possible without drawing undue attention to her, did not mean it was the only way to combat her shyness.

Even if it was probably the best way.

"Never mind." I made myself give Dormé a reconciling smile. "It's early—you know, still waking up."

She smiled back at me, accepting the almost apology.

"Do you have the Senator's schedule?" Dormé asked as we headed towards Padmé's room.

"Mm-hmm," I answered, pulling my datapad out of one of my deep pockets. "Had Versé send it to all of us before I came over. It doesn't look like it's too busy today."

"I always enjoy slower days," Dormé commented.

I gave her a smile and then knocked on Padmé's bedroom door.

Silence greeted me.

I knocked again, calling, "Rise and shine, milady!"

There was a small thump and then a muffled, "Won't be a moment!"

I leaned against the wall near the door and asked Dormé, "Have you talked to Captain Typho yet?"

"No. I was going to speak with him and the Senator after we previewed Senator Amidala's schedule," Dormé answered.

"Hmm. Well, do you want to do it now? We have at least two transfers in tricky areas—one of them was just scheduled yesterday—and I think it might be easier if we can present Pad—the Senator," I hastily corrected myself, "with a unified security plan. She seems to argue less when the handmaidens and the good captain are in agreement. And there isn't a chance in the galaxy that Typho will agree to a security plan if I spring it on him. Or if he thinks I got you to spring it on him for me."

Dormé's eyes glinted with amusement. "Of course," she agreed demurely before heading off to find the captain of the guard.

A small knot in my chest dissolved. Typho and I did not get along very well. I tried to avoid him.

From behind the bedroom door, there were a couple more thumps and something that sounded suspiciously like a curse word.

I stifled a yawn.

A couple of minutes passed.

Then, the door opened and Padmé breezed out, dress perfect and every hair in place.

"Fall asleep at your desk again?" I asked as I fell into step behind her.

"Of course not, Sabé. Don't be ridiculous," said Padmé lightly.

"Oh, of course not. Is that why you have sleep lines in the shape of a datapad on your face? Because you didn't fall asleep at your desk?"

Padmé cursed under her breath (I had really been a bad influence on her) and wiped at her face.

"Do I really?" she demanded.

"You may want to go back and splash your face with some cold water while we go over your schedule," I advised.

Padmé briefly closed her eyes before turning around and heading back into her room.

I followed her into the fresher as she hastily started to splash her face.

"You know," I said casually, "I hear there's this really marvelous invention—it's called a 'bed' and people sleep on it."

She sent me a very dirty look over her shoulder.

"This is the fourth time that you've fallen asleep at your desk this week, Padmé—I'm starting to think maybe Dormé was right in suggesting we should secretly have it removed from the bedroom," I told her.

Padmé sighed. "You know that's not necessary, Sabé. I just lost track of time."

"Are you sure you don't want that melting clock I bought? I know it looks a little funny and that it doesn't fit with your décor at all, but if it helps you keep track of time so you can get a decent night's sleep…"

Padmé let out a weary laugh and then said with a sense of finality, "No, thank you. You can keep the clock. I will—maybe I will move my desk light. I can't work on reports if I don't have the light to do it with."

"Seems like a good idea," I agreed cautiously, relieved that Padmé was finally starting to open up to ideas on how she could get more sleep, even though I hoped she got some better ideas soon. The desk light being moved probably wouldn't help very much.

Padmé had always been a workaholic but, usually, she also knew when to stop. After all, if she was sick or exhausted the quality of her work went down. However, since coming to the Senate and having to deal with the Separatist Crisis, she had gotten worse about knowing her limits. Since she had become the leader for the opposition to the Military Creation Act, she had gone completely off the deep end.

It was a miracle the woman was even upright, considering her determination to work until she literally fell asleep on top of her datapad and her not-so-fun tendency to completely forget about the necessity of eating. I had taken to ordering the other handmaidens to schedule her breakfast, lunch and dinner meetings as often as possible, just to make sure she actually had semi-regular meals.

"In any case," I turned the subject back to business, knowing that continuing to talk to Padmé about her sleeping habits would get me no further, "Dormé and I will be following you around, with Dormé staying the night. Versé is secretary, Captain Typho is actually on duty today and Cordé has off. Officer Drekka is manning the security desk. Your schedule for today is the breakfast meeting with the delegates from…"

Barely any time later, the evidence of Padmé's desk-sleeping was gone from her face (partly thanks to the cold water and partly thanks to the wonders of make-up), Padmé was fully briefed on her day, I had collected the necessary documents for her meetings, Captain Typho and Dormé had informed her (and me) of all the day's security measures and protocols, and we were leaving the apartment.

Feeling snug in my hood and shapeless cloak, I double checked the position of my blasters and then glanced to the side to make sure that Dormé and Captain Typho were both where they should be.

They were. So we left.

We rode down the elevator. Padmé was checking her datapad: reviewing the morning's newspapers and seeing if she had received any new messages or if Versé had updated any part of her schedule. Captain Typho was on the comm, quietly talking with the speeder driver and informing him that we would be emerging from the Senate Apartment Complex shortly. Hidden under her hood as she was, I couldn't see what Dormé was doing.

The elevator door slid open and we began our walk across the lobby.

I wasn't too worried about anything happening—the apartment complex only housed Senators and other diplomats—but I continued to scan for threats anyway.

We left the apartment complex with no problems, as expected.

We got into the speeder with no problems, as expected.

We reached our destination—a busy square full of top-notch restaurants—with no problems, as expected.

It was when we left the speeder that the unexpected began to happen.

Knowing that the square was going to be one of our more tricky locations, Captain Typho came out of the speeder first, with Dormé leaving second and circling the speeder before opening the door for Padmé. I followed Padmé out and gave our driver instructions on where to wait for us. The four of us descended the stairs. The stairs took us from the small speeder lot to the square itself.

We began to cross the plaza together, speeders whizzing by overhead.

Padmé tucked her datapad back into one of her many cleverly concealed pockets.

Captain Typho sped up in order to sweep the area in front of us for any threats.

Dormé and I remained on high alert from our positions slightly behind and to either side of Padmé.

Then, from overhead, the noise of the speeders seemed to grow louder.

Near us, people started screaming and pointing at the sky as they began to run. My head snapped towards the sky—a transport speeder had lost control and was hurtling towards the ground.

The galaxy seemed to freeze in place as I took everything in. The transport speeder was heading directly towards us. Everyone around us was panicking. They were running in all directions. Captain Typho was trying and failing to fight the current of people back towards us, to help.

Everything sped up again. I shoved Padmé forward. Dormé yanked her onward. With effort, we got her, her bulky dress, her high heels and her headdress moving at a run. As we raced forward, I snatched a fleeting look back at the transport.

It was still hurtling towards us. The packages behind it swung wildly.

If I had any breath left, I'd have been cursing.

We weren't moving quickly enough.

I picked up my speed, propelling Padmé forward even faster.

We had to get out of there. We had to get Padmé to safety. 'Flattened by Transport Speeder' was not a fitting epitaph for one of the most promising politicians of the era. Also, it sounded like a _really_ painful way to die.

A woman slammed into my shoulder as she fled.

We kept hurtling forward.

I shot another glance over my shoulder. I nearly gasped with relief—Dormé, Padmé and I had run out of the transport's path. It wasn't going to hit us. We kept running but I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen.

We were going to be okay. We weren't going to die. We were going to be okay.

I looked back one more time, just to reassure myself.

The driver jerked the transport upwards. Even as he regained control of the speeder, the biggest of his packages broke through its bindings. It slid sideways off the transport.

The crate was large enough to crush at least twenty speeders. It was falling directly towards us.

Everything blurred together_._

Next thing I knew, Padmé, Dormé and I were in an inglorious heap on the ground, which was shaking beneath us. Dormé and I must have slammed Padmé out of the way at the same time.

I glanced over my shoulder—off to the side of Dormé's head, I could see the huge crate skidding across the busy square, screaming people running out of its way as—I gaped as it burst into flame.

And it was made of—I began spewing curses. Dormé tumbled off me, I scrambled off Padmé and both of us yanked Padmé to her feet.

Legs burning and lungs heaving, I stared sprinting, dragging Padmé after me. Next to me, Dormé was gasping for breath even as she helped me pull Padmé forward. Padmé kept tripping. Only our bruising grip kept her upright and moving.

With a deafening boom, a surge of overwhelming heat knocked into my back. I was sent head over heels as the world fell unnaturally quiet.

I slammed into the pavement. It became impossible to breathe. The world went black.

Slowly, the blackness lightened to gray and became polka dotted. Blinking woozily, the multi-colored polka dots solidified into speeders and the gray background became identifiable as the sky.

The world remained silent.

Three speeders with headache inducing flashing lights briefly appeared above me before disappearing. An annoying buzzing broke the silence.

I continued to stare at the sky. I blinked.

The package must have exploded… probably very impressively, too.

With some hesitance, I attempted to wriggle my fingers. All of them responded. Then both of my feet and all of my toes wiggled. Seeing that everything seemed to still be in place, I slowly pushed myself up onto my elbows and then into a sitting position.

The buzzing in my ears grew louder.

My brain felt like it was sloshing about in my head. Still, I slowly turned my head to my right. Next to me, Padmé lay on her stomach. She had pushed herself to her elbows and was staring at the ground. Her dress was torn, she had scratches on her face and her hair was falling out of her headdress, but her shoulders were moving like she was breathing and she was blinking.

Still alive. She was still alive!

Next to Padmé, Dormé was on her stomach and slowly pushing herself to her elbows as well.

Also alive!

I felt air rush out of my lungs as if I were laughing, but if I was I couldn't hear it. The loud, annoying buzz continued to be the only thing I heard.

Unsteadily, I forced my knees to bend and pushed myself off the ground. For a moment, the world rolled beneath me and I staggered sideways. Finally, my arms spread out at my sides and my feet spread apart, I caught my balance. Next to me, Padmé had rolled onto her back and pushed herself into a sitting position.

The buzzing in my ears began to change to something more indistinct but, at the same time, more solid.

I stood very still to keep the world from buckling under my feet. Slowly, my hearing returned. The air was filled with wailing sirens and screeching people.

"You know, milady," I eventually said, raising my voice to be heard over the din, "Maybe you should forget the whole Military Creation Act thing and focus on laws about transport safety in metropolitan areas instead."

I cautiously glanced down again. My brain sloshed about my skull as the world lurched beneath me once more, but my stance was solid and I remained on my feet.

Dormé was now gawking at the completely demolished, but still burning, crate. Bodies were sprawled around it at unnatural angles. At least one of the bodies was so badly damaged that it no longer resembled a sentient. We were so close to the wreckage that I could smell burning flesh. It was only a matter of time before the smoke became so thick that I'd have no choice but to cough. At the moment, I was trying very hard not to cough as I just knew that, the moment I did, I would lose my balance and topple back to the pavement. I wanted to put that off as long as possible.

Padmé unsteadily rose to her feet. I quickly held my arm out and she tightly grabbed ahold of it as she swayed. After a moment, she found her balance and let go.

Together, we stared at the crate and the destruction it had caused.

Finally, she faintly replied, "Thank you, Sabé. I'll take that under advisement."

**Expected Update Time: Before 5/8/13**


	11. Handmaidens

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part_ _II: In Which Sabé is Alive_

Chapter 3: Handmaidens

Yawning, I stumbled around the small table, refilling everyone's caf as I went and vaguely wondering why I'd felt the need to circle the caf table in the first place. We were all seated on the two sofas that faced each other across the table. No one's caf cup was very far away from my seat. I probably could have poured the caf just as well from my spot on the sofa.

Not that it mattered. If I was seriously pondering the best way to pour cups of caf, it was too late at night for me to do it correctly anyway.

"That's a wonderful idea, Cordé," Padmé said as she considered the datapads spread across the table.

Cordé flushed with pride as she picked up her caf mug—probably in an attempt to hide the pleased smile spreading across her face.

"But what about Senator—Senator—oh!" Versé cussed. "Whatever! That Senator from Rodia. Good old what's-his-name. What about him? Don't you think he'll be upset?"

"Personal friend of the Naberries or not, he made a thrice-cursed allegorical _play_ in favor of the Military Creation Act." I yawned, plopping back into my seat next to Dormé. "I don't think we can win him over."

"Senator Farr, Versé. Senator Onaconda Farr," Dormé corrected Versé as she politely scooted closer to Cordé to make more room for me on our sofa. Dormé, Cordé and I always claimed the sofa facing the window, while Versé and Padmé always sat on the one facing into the apartment.

"Yeah, Dormé, sure. I don't know why you bother to tell me this stuff. I never remember it anyway." Versé rolled her eyes. "Face person, remember? I don't do names."

Dormé closed her eyes and then gracefully let the subject go. I was grateful.

It was too late at night to get into the necessary discussion about Versé's inability to care about her inability to remember names. I did, however, make a mental note to talk to her about it when I was feeling more awake. As a handmaiden to an important political figure, knowing names was sort of important. She couldn't keep referring to Senator Farr as 'good old what's-his-name' any more than she could keep calling Senator Organa 'good young what's-his-name'. I'd nearly called both of them by their 'nicknames' at least twice now while talking to their aids. When that started happening, things had gone too far.

However, there was a time and a place for that discussion and it wasn't now.

"In any case," I said, "Are you alright with letting go of trying to win Senator Farr's vote, milady?"

Padmé nodded a little absentmindedly. "Uncle Ono won't be swayed. I think the best strategy would be to focus on the more undecided senators and planets for now, using the approach Cordé suggested."

"Of course, milady." Dormé made a note in her datapad. "Should we start with Mid-Rim worlds or the Core worlds?"

"Well," Cordé spoke up timidly, "I was thinking—well, I mean, I don't know and, obviously, it's entirely up to you, milady—but I was looking through the numbers earlier and it seemed to me that there is a greater number of mid-rim worlds that are undecided and have positive relationships with Naboo and you, milady, than there are Core worlds. Also," a very tiny but obviously amused smile appeared on Cordé's face, "a lot of the Mid-Rim worlds seemed to think that Senator Farr's play was really ridiculous. And that his cameo in it was reaching beyond good taste. So that might work in our favor."

Padmé gazed into space for a moment, seeming to weigh Cordé's points. Then she began to sift through the numerous datapads that were covering the caf table. She was very careful not to bump into anyone's caf cups, precariously placed around the datapads as they all were. However, we all knew from prior experience that, with as many datapads on the table as there were, it was only a matter of time before someone's cup tipped over. Cordé, Dormé, Versé and I all picked up our caf cups as Padmé continued to look through the datapads. As the seconds continued to tick past, Cordé bit her lip and seemed to shrink in on herself a little, looking more and more uncertain.

Finally, Padmé looked up from the datapad she had been studying, met Cordé's eyes and smiled.

"I agree. That would be the best course of action."

Cordé positively beamed.

I raised my caf cup to hide my amused smile.

"So," I said once I finished ingesting more caffeine. "Are we all in agreement that Cordé ought to be in charge of arranging the tour?"

Cordé jumped, spilling caf on herself. She let out a small yelp of pain.

"Oh, ouch! That doesn't look—" Versé glanced around wildly and then yanked off her cloak and thrust it across the table at Cordé. "Use this! I'll go get some cold water and you—oh for the love of the Seven Goddesses, someone take her caf cup already!" Versé hollered over her shoulder as she rushed to the kitchen.

Dormé neatly lifted the mug away from Cordé, who was pulling her skirt away from her legs and looking at Versé's cloak uncertainly even as she winced.

"Versé already stained the only skirt that it matches," I told Cordé. "You may as well use it."

Relieved, Cordé began to dab at her legs. Then, in a whirlwind, Versé flew back into the room, cold water and washrag in hand.

"Cordé, you've got to work on that self-confidence thing. I know I've told you that a million times already, but it's seriously starting to injure you! You just spilled hot caf on yourself because you're an idiot who didn't realize that you would obviously be placed in charge of the plan you thought up. Seriously, Cordé, not that unexpected! Especially not when Sabé and Milady and Dormé are involved. Me and Typho? Maybe you'd have some right to be surprised, but honestly!" Versé ranted in exasperation to her flushing and injured friend.

"That's not why—I mean, I have—my self-confidence is perfectly—" Cordé stuttered, as she grew redder and redder.

"Sure it is," Versé scoffed. "You have perfectly good self-confidence, which is why—"

"How is your leg, Cordé? Do you think you'll want any burn cream from the med kit?" Padmé interrupted smoothly, before Versé could embarrass Cordé any further.

"No." Cordé shook her head, her eyes fixed firmly on her burned leg. "Thank you, milady. I should be fine."

Versé rolled her eyes as she squeezed past Padmé to reclaim her spot on the sofa across from Dormé and me. "As if you'd ever say otherwise, you silly little idiot…"

Dormé coughed—probably to cover up a laugh.

I ignored all of them. It was late. I was tired. There was not enough caffeine in the galaxy to keep me coherent for another hour. It was time to finish the meeting.

"Wonderful," I told Cordé. "If it turns out to be worse than you thought, comm me and I can cover for you tomorrow while you get it fixed up. Anyway—recap." Padmé and Dormé exchanged slightly exasperated looks. Ignoring them, I continued. "Naboo will not be pushing for harsher transport laws in metropolitan areas despite the clear need for them."

Padmé seemed to be torn between amusement and frustration. Dormé was clearly suppressing laughter. Versé snorted loudly and a small smile flitted across Cordé's face.

I didn't know why they found it so amusing.

We could have died and, nearly a week later, the person and the company responsible for the falling cargo still hadn't been caught. The peace officers hadn't even seemed to try very hard to catch the driver, despite the fact that thirteen people had died and countless others had been injured in the accident. When I tried to comm and ask them about their progress, the peace officers had essentially told me that they had more important things to worry about.

Clearly, metropolitan transport laws and the enforcement of said laws were important and underrated issues that ought to be addressed. Preferably by Padmé, who had a built in and emotionally moving story about the dangers of unsafe metropolitan transportation.

I didn't understand why no one agreed with me and why they were all so set on defeating the Military Creation Act.

However, I decided to be the bigger person, let it go and continue with the recap. "We will instead be focusing all of our energy on defeating the Military Creation Act. To further that goal, Dormé is still acting as unofficial Naboo spy—the notes say to keep up the great work and maybe try to further your network to see what the lower governmental officials think of the Act, not just the upper ones. I'm to enlist Eirtaé's help with distributing information pamphlets to the students at the University. I'm also supposed to try to find relevant professors who might be willing to talk at the Defeat the Act Rally that Versé is organizing with the aids for the Representatives of Chandrila and Ithor. Versé is in charge of gathering up important figure to speak at the rally as well as dealing with all the necessary permits, food, decorations, etcetera, etcetera…"

"Honestly…" Padmé muttered while I glanced down at my notes.

Once again ignoring her, I blazed on. "Cordé will be talking to Mid-Rim planets in order to set up the dates and venues for the as-yet-unnamed 'Let's defeat the Military Creation Act' planetary tour—I think—" I rifled through the datapads on the cluttered table. After a moment, I located the datapad with Padmé's calendar pulled up on it and quickly skimmed it. "Only for these dates—" I highlighted the first month of the two month Senate recess, "and make sure that Padmé has a reasonable—I meant Senator Amidala, sorry it's late—has a reasonable schedule so that she can sleep as well as visit lots of planets. Also, you two talk to each other and get a more definite schedule sorted. Cordé, make sure to keep in contact with us about that and clear all travel arrangements with Typho so that he doesn't throw a fit.

"Um… The Senator is in charge as always, so any major change of plans goes through her… However, I am supervising everything per usual, so talk to me if there are any smaller problems or concerns… Dormé, Versé, Cordé, make sure you are writing me daily reports detailing _all _of your ideas, all of your discoveries and all of your plans, however loose they may be, so that I can keep the Senator properly updated… Milady, if you do anything or change your mind about anything or need anything, you don't have to write me a report but try to let me know so that I can make sure we're all updated and working towards the same things… I'll send out memos as need be… Is there anything else you lot want to talk about—you know, any more ideas, concerns, points of interest—or can we go to sleep?" I looked up at everyone expectantly.

"Are you tired, Sabé?" asked Dormé blandly. Her eyes were dancing and Versé was giggling obnoxiously.

At that moment, I hated both of them.

"Anything relevant?" I asked again, a little more sharply than I meant to.

Versé stopped giggling but no one said anything.

I waited a moment longer.

Padmé was pulling her hair out of its twist, Cordé was dabbing her burn with more cold water and Dormé and Versé were very pointedly not looking at one another, their lips twitching.

I sighed.

"Going once… going twice… And…" I paused for a moment. Everyone turned to look at me expectantly. "Okay. This week's Senator-Handmaiden Meeting is officially adjourned. Unless there are any objections, we will meet same time and same place next week, right, milady?"

"Yes," Padmé agreed. Then, she added, "Versé, if you could send all of the finalized plans for the Defeat the Act Rally to me, I would appreciate it. Dormé, if you discover anything extremely relevant, letting me know directly would be best. Sabé, don't forget your meeting with Typho tomorrow morning. Our mid-week meeting is the same time and place as it always is. And Cordé—"

Cordé looked up from her slightly burned leg with a start.

"Yes, milady?"

Padmé smiled. "Would you mind staying a few minutes longer? I want to start working out some of the details regarding the tour."

Cordé lit up like a candle. "Of course not, milady!" She was positively glowing with happiness and pride.

"Wonderful." Padmé grinned at her.

"Well, since that's all, good-night everyone." I stifled a yawn as I stood up.

"Good night, Sabé," Versé replied as she stood up to begin the nightly security checks.

"I'll walk out with you," Dormé told me, quickly standing. "Goodnight, milady, Cordé. Versé, try to ensure that they don't stay up all night."

Versé stood at attention and then saluted Dormé with a wide smirk on her face. I rolled my eyes.

"Goodnight," said Padmé.

"Bye," Cordé said with a little more verve than usual. She was clearly excited to be spending time with Padmé.

Padmé and I glanced at each other—I could see my amused triumph mirrored in her eyes—and then we quickly looked away. If we ended up smirking at each other, Cordé would probably assume that we were laughing at her and then shut down. As the goal was a happier, more open, more confident Cordé, us getting caught smirking at each other would be very counterproductive.

So, with only one more brief goodbye wave, I led Dormé to the elevator that took us out of Padmé's apartment and into the lobby below.

Once the elevator door slid shut behind us, she turned to me with politely masked curiosity.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"What was what about?"

She slanted her eyes my way and then raised her eyebrows, not buying my confusion.

Sighing, I answered, "Cordé's excited to be planning the tour with Padmé, that's all."

The elevator continued to descend.

"Sabé?" Dormé began a little hesitantly.

I was mid-yawn.

Feeling awkward, I tried to swallow it. When that didn't work, I covered it with my hand as I turned to look at her.

"I don't want to—I know you are the—" she stopped.

By this time, I had successfully completed my yawn.

Thus able to talk and react without looking like an awkward idiot, I smiled at her. "Spit it out, Dormé. I'm so tired, I don't think I'll be able to—do whatever it is you're worried I'll do."

She bit her lip, collected herself and then calmly continued.

"I do not wish to appear as though I'm telling you what to do. After all, you are the Head Senatorial Handmaiden. However, I wish to speak with you about some concerns I have. I didn't want to go over your head and talk to the Senator without bringing it up to you first." She paused for a moment, checked to make sure I was still listening—as we were stuck in the elevator together, I didn't have much choice but to listen—and then continued. "Versé doesn't know everyone's names. She needs to learn them. She also needs a more professional manner when interacting with other people. Cordé's confidence also has to improve, otherwise she may end up second guessing herself and getting someone injured—I don't want to tell you what to do," she hurriedly assured me, suddenly anxious again, "I only, I wasn't aware if you knew, or if you were doing something about it and I am concerned. That's it. That's all. Only concerned."

The first half of her statement had been presented in her usual self-assured, inwardly calm way. The second half came out as something of a worried mess, which was very, very unusual.

I wasn't sure if I ought to be upset with her for being so critical of her fellow handmaidens and, indirectly, of me or ashamed that I had let things get so far out of hand that she felt she had to talk to me about this or amused about how worried she was about the whole thing or grateful that she had talked to me about her concerns before talking to Padmé.

I wished this conversation was taking place when I was more coherent.

Oh, well. Nothing for it now but to handle it. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I reluctantly prepared to answer all of her concerns, right that moment. After midnight. Running purely on caf. While in an elevator.

Brilliant.

Some days, I really hated my job.

**Expected Update Time: Before (or on?) June 8th**


	12. Hate

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part_ _II: In Which Sabé is Alive_

Chapter 4: Hate

"—and it was irresponsible of you to allow—" Captain Typho raged, pacing the small Security Center and gesturing at me furiously.

I gazed at him politely as he continued to somehow twist around the entire transport speeder incident to make it seem as though it were my fault. He ranted about my irresponsibility, immaturity and how he couldn't believe that his uncle Panaka had ever thought I was competent, and how we were lucky that the Senator hadn't died and hadn't he _told_ me something seemed wrong and hadn't he _mentioned_ that it was a tricky transfer and if he hadn't been so on top of things, the Senator would have been dead and it would have been all my fault.

"—the square was _clearly_ a danger and if I hadn't—"

His inability to take responsibility, his astounding talent of making everything that went wrong appear to be someone else's fault, and his gift for taking the credit of other people's work truly deserved some sort of an award. Perhaps a star on it with the words "Naboo's Biggest Jerk" inscribed on the front. He could wear it proudly pinned to his uniform everywhere he went.

"—decided to keep you, is beyond me because I have _never_ met a more incapable—"

I thought the star seemed appropriate.

Padmé, unfortunately, probably wouldn't go for it.

"—Dormé did a better job than you and she's not—"

I continued to listen politely while he pointed out every mistake I had ever made in my entire life—including the ones that I had made back when I had been a royal handmaiden and he hadn't even met me yet.

If he hadn't been so utterly devoted to Padmé and her safety, I probably would have walked out on him while he was ranting. He really knew how to infuriate a person.

However, he was also very good at his job. He had a talent for spotting danger and a real imagination when it came to avoiding it.

He was a wonderful Captain of the Guard.

I just hated working with him.

There were, I mused as Typho's eyes narrowed into slits, quite a few things I hated about my job.

I hated being in charge of people. I hated the endless record keeping. I hated being blamed for things I had no control over. I hated the cloud of worry and guilt that seemed to hang over me all the time. I hated having to listen to all the lies most politicians were continually spouting. I hated having to be diplomatic all the time. I hated that no matter what I did, someone always seemed to be unhappy with me.

I hated that I couldn't call Padmé by her first name during work hours without seeming unprofessional. I hated that Eirtaé, Yané, Rabé and Saché were all in love with what they were doing. I hated that every time I came to work I was reminded that I still had no real idea of what I wanted to do with my life, despite being twenty-five years old, holding down a job and being enrolled in university. I hated that I was supposed to declare my intended career to the university by the end of the upcoming semester.

I hated working with Typho. I hated that Dormé had a way of unintentionally making me feel inferior. I hated that my professors at university looked at me strangely when they found out that I was going to school despite already being Head Senatorial Handmaiden for Senator Padmé Amidala. I hated that they expected me to be okay with being someone else's shadow for the rest of my life. I hated that I didn't have enough free time to have any more than the occasional lunch with Anakin and Obi-Wan. I hated that I had been avoiding talking to Rabé, Saché and Yané because of how jealous I felt about how perfectly their lives were working out. I hated how frustrated I got with Padmé because I had to work with her and for her. I hated how little I got to see Padmé outside of work.

And, most of all, I hated that there were so many things about my job and, to be honest, about my life in general, that I hated.

It was not a good feeling, hate. It made my stomach roll, gave me headaches and left me feeling like I was tied in knots all the time. I didn't enjoy it one bit.

I liked being happy. I liked feeling productive and helpful and needed. I liked being comfortable enough with where I was in life that I could feel happy for my friends.

I hated that hate seemed to cloud out all of those things that I liked and make them seem impossible. I hated that I couldn't make myself stop hating everything.

"Are you even listening to me, Handmaiden Reccen?" Typho demanded.

And I really, _really_ hated working with Typho.

"No," I snapped. "Because you know perfectly well that the transport speeder incident was a freak accident and that, apart from tightening up laws on transport safety in metropolitan areas which the Senator has already stupidly decided not to do, there is nothing we could have done to prevent what happened. We already discussed what to do in the case of future freak traffic accidents, we've already gone over ways to improve response times in case of future freak traffic accidents and we've already agreed that since, despite the freak traffic accident, Senator Amidala is still alive and breathing we shouldn't worry about it too much. So, no, I'm not listening because you're not saying anything of any importance," I snarled, my heart pounding furiously and my nails digging painfully into palms.

He blinked at me.

I glared back, trying to ignore the adrenaline rushing through me. I pressed my lips together in an effort to suppress the urge to keep raging at him for another hour or so.

He already thought I was a complete incompetent, I reminded myself, struggling to contain my anger. There was no need to make him think I was a complete incompetent with a raging temper.

But keeping quiet was hard.

It's just because you're tired, I told myself, taking in deep breaths through my nose. You're only reacting like this, because it took you three hours to sort things out with Dormé last night. You're just tired. Now get a grip.

I let out one long breath through my mouth.

Then I said, a little too sweetly, "Since we've also gone over this entire week's security schedule, agreed to take the handmaidens off the night shift, discussed hiring new guards to fill those shifts and swapped handmaiden and guard schedules, I suggest we finish this meeting, hmm?"

The deep breathing had not helped at all. I was still seriously considering knocking his lights out.

Luckily, despite evidence to the contrary, Typho was an intelligent man and he seemed to have realized that I was contemplating violence. My clenched fists probably helped to clue him in.

"Of course," he agreed with great alacrity. "Of course. I'll contact you if anything changes."

"Wonderful," I said tightly, quickly getting to my feet. "Always a pleasure talking to you."

And then I swept out of the security office before I could end up saying or doing anything else I'd later regret.

My frustration with Typho kept me energized through about half of my record keeping, and two of my memo-writing sessions.

However, just as I finished writing a letter requesting that the Galactic Opera allow us to do a security sweep before Padmé attended _The Hollow of Pexene_, all of my anger drained away, leaving me to feel hollow and guilty for snapping at Typho.

I knew it was a ridiculous thing to feel guilty about. I could practically see Saché rolling her eyes at me.

After all, the man had spent a good half hour insulting my character and blaming me for things that clearly weren't my fault while simultaneously taking credit for all the work that Dormé and I had done to keep Padmé safe. He deserved to be snapped at a little.

But I still felt awful. After all, Typho probably couldn't help the fact that he had been born a galaxy-class jerk. Also, he really cared about Padmé and had probably been terrified by the whole situation and furious at his inability to do anything about it. From what I knew of Typho—and, unfortunately, I knew quite a bit—he probably hadn't known what to do with all of those emotions and had ended up taking them out on me, because I happened to be handy.

Which was still wrong of him.

Only, I hadn't handled it in a very professional manner. The right thing to do probably would have been to very calmly and quietly correct him, tell him that I didn't appreciate being insulted and then ask him not to do it again. That's probably what Dormé would have done. And Dormé wasn't even—I sat bolt upright in my chair.

I stood up and strode out of my tiny little office, snatching up my cloak and purse as I went.

That was quite enough self-pity for one day, I told myself sternly as I flipped the sign on my door to let people know that I was out of my office, on my lunch break. I had to get myself into a better mood somehow or else I would be a complete wreck when my shift finished, utterly convinced that I was a worthless human being, when I wasn't.

So it was time for a change of scenery.

A little while later, I reached the Coruscant Crumbly Café. I was going to buy myself one of their delicious croissants and a cup of caf. Then, I was going to stare at the skylanes and the skyline, eat my delicious croissant, drink my caf and remind myself that I loved Coruscant.

Then, I was going to go back to work in a much better frame of mind.

It was, I congratulated myself as I entered the comfortably busy café, a brilliant plan.

I strode up to the counter and gave Willie my biggest smile. The last time I had talked to Yané she had informed me—with some poorly hidden concern—that people's emotions often corresponded with their facial expressions. So, if someone was feeling badly, they should smile and that would help them feel better. I wanted to feel better and Yané was nearly always right, so I was taking her advice. Who cared if I worried poor Willie with my unnaturally large smile? I was smiling like a lunatic for the sake of my emotional wellbeing!

Willie stared at me for a moment.

Through my relentless smile, I said, "Willie, I want a croissant and a cup of caf to go, please."

"I—you and Eirtaé usually don't come in until tomorrow," Willie stuttered. "What are you—"

"A croissant and a cup of caf," I repeated, doing my best to keep my smile firmly in place.

"But—" He stared at me a little helplessly while I continued to grin at him widely.

I wasn't feeling any better yet, but I was sure that if I smiled a little while longer my mood would start to improve soon. It had to.

"Um. Sure thing, Sabé," Willie said slowly, frowning at me. "Your total is—" But before he could tell me, he froze, staring in horror at something behind me.

Forcing my smile to stay on my face, I turned around to see what was further delaying my croissant, my caf and my future happiness.

Anakin and Obi-Wan were standing behind me wearing traditional Jedi clothing, staring at Willie and looking grim.

My smile slipped off my face and I turned back to look at the counter. Willie's eyes were darting back and forth, clearly looking for an escape route.

I sighed. "I suppose you're going to run off before I can get my croissant?" I asked him, my heart sinking.

Willie's eyes darted to me and then to the bread knife sitting off to his left.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Really, Willie?"

Willie glanced back at where Obi-Wan and Anakin were standing. His hand twitched towards the knife.

"Willie Hawa?" Obi-Wan asked politely, drawing even with me.

"Uh—" Willie gulped. Then he spun around and began to dash towards the back room.

He made it about four steps before Anakin and Obi-Wan jumped over the counter and blocked him, their lightsabers hissing.

The rest of the customers in the café began to scream. Some of them started to stampede towards the door, others threw themselves under their tables and yet others eagerly stared at the spectacle, pulling out recording devices and no doubt planning to post their vids on the holonet.

"Mr. Hawa," Obi-Wan said very politely, "we'd like to take you in for some questioning about a number of attacks on Jedi ships."

Willie let out a small keening noise.

"I don't suppose you could let me buy a croissant and a cup of caf before you question him, could you?" I asked half-heartedly.

Anakin's eyes darted towards me and a grin flashed across his face before he returned his attention to Willie.

"I'm afraid not," Obi-Wan replied calmly, his focus firmly remaining on Willie.

"I didn't do it! I'm innocent!" Willie squeaked. "I knew nothing about it! I haven't been attacking any ships, Jedi or not! I haven't! I know nothing! Tell them, Sabé! Tell them how I just run the Coruscant Crumbly and that's all! Tell them they have to let me go because I'm innocent and I have to sell you your croissant and your caf! _Make_ them let me go, Sabé! Make them!" Willie squealed, his terrified eyes darting between the two lightsabers.

I sighed. "Would if I could, Willie, would if I could."

Anakin's eyes briefly darted towards me again. "You would?" he asked.

"I'm in desperate need of a croissant and some caf," I replied a little moodily. "But, please, carry on arresting my future happiness."

Obi-Wan's lips twitched towards a smile even as he calmly began to inform Willie of his rights. Once he'd finished, Obi-Wan politely asked Willie to quietly come with him and Anakin.

A moment later, Obi-Wan and Willie were gone and Anakin had cleared out and locked up the Coruscant Crumbly Café before following his master in a separate speeder.

I was left behind with no croissant, no caf and no smile.

But that was okay, I told myself. My magnificent plan may have been dented a little bit, but there was a decent enough restaurant only a short walk away. They also served croissants and caf. I could get my croissant and my caf there. Then, I could break a few traffic laws and reach the Skyhigh Garden. I could sit next to one of the gargoyles that encircled the place and stare out at Coruscant and all of its amazing levels, appreciating the endless drop below me.

I'd find my smile there.

An hour later, I had eaten a mostly delicious croissant, downed a cup of weak caf and gotten yelled at by a security guard for sitting next to a gargoyle on a ledge that I could have fallen to my death from.

I had also found a smile and a better attitude.

So, feeling more at peace with myself and the galaxy, I sailed into the Senatorial Apartment Complex and back to my tiny office in the Naboo security center. I was feeling refreshed and ready to take on the rest of my pile of correspondence, finish up the record keeping and, if I had time, have a second conversation with Typho in order to correct everything that had gone wrong during the first conversation.

After all, there were croissants, cups of caf, heights to fall from and a planet that was so much bigger than I was.

All was right in the galaxy.

Smiling to myself, I flipped the sign on my office door, to let everyone know I had returned, and then let myself inside.

Padmé was sitting in the chair behind my desk, her head in her scraped up hands.

Dormé was pacing behind Padmé, her cloak torn at the elbow and at the knee.

Cordé was standing right in front of me, her hood down and her blaster pointed at my heart.

My heart sank and my eyebrows shot upwards as Cordé slowly lowered her blaster, breathing a sigh of relief.

Maybe all was not right in the galaxy, after all.

**Expected Update Time: Before July 7th, 2013. **


	13. Recap

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part_ _II: In Which Sabé is Alive_

Chapter 5: Recap

Sitting on the floor and leaning against my office door, I surveyed the three women in my office.

Padmé sat at my desk, tapping her fingers across its surface and boring holes in my head with her eyes. Dormé paced the floor behind Padmé as though she was going somewhere important and feared she might be late. Cordé was braiding and unbraiding her hair with such speed that I was a little afraid she was going to go bald.

"Okay," I sighed. "Go over it for me one more time. Cordé, start."

Cordé jumped, let out a short laugh and then ran a hand through her hair, looking surprised when it got stuck in her half-finished braid. Flushing, she quickly freed it and then stuck both her hands in her pockets.

"Right. So. The Senator was just finishing up her lunch meeting with the other opposition leaders. The meeting had finished and the others had left a little while ago, but Senator Amidala decided to stay behind."

Padmé, with no thought to her image for once, snorted. "More like I was forced to stay behind." She shot me an irritated look. "Did you really have to tell the handmaidens to make sure I ate everything on my plate? I'm not five years old, Sabé, and I don't appreciate being treated as though I am."

"Yes, well, when you start to act like your age, we can start treating you like your age." I gave Cordé an encouraging smile. "Go on, Cordé."

Cordé glanced between Padmé—who was glaring so ferociously she appeared to be willing me to spontaneously combust—and me—who was ignoring Padmé as best I could—but nonetheless continued. "Right. Um. So. Senator Amidala finished her lunch about ten minutes after everyone else had left. Dormé left with the Senator while I went to settle the tab. The hostess seemed a little nervous while I was paying but she said that she was a huge supporter of Senator Amidala and then asked me what it was like to work with her. I assumed that was why she was nervous. I didn't really say anything to her, just that working with the Senator was lovely and then I thanked her for her time. I left the restaurant and began to head towards the meeting point for the speeder.

"When I was halfway there, I noticed a dark green T-13 airspeeder with a small scratch on its upper left wing with no tags. It was speeding away from the meeting point, outside of the skylane limits. Captain Typho had picked the meeting point because it was low traffic, with a clear sightline. It's near enough a skylane that it doesn't go outside of our Senatorial Chauffeur Permit but is far enough away that it would be difficult for any accidents to occur. So I noticed the T-13. It shouldn't have been there without a permit.

"Anyway, after seeing the airspeeder head away from our meeting spot, I started to run. While running down the skywalk, I ran into a thin human sentient, about a hand taller than me, wearing a helmet and a red flight suit. The person was walking away from the Court. Otherwise, the skywalk was empty. The human apologized for running into me and I continued toward the Senator and Dormé. When I arrived, I found Senator Amidala and Dormé both looking a little shaken. Senator Amidala had scrapes on her hands and knees and Dormé had rips in her clothes. The chauffeur hadn't arrived yet. Senator Amidala ordered Dormé and me to keep quiet and say that she had merely been jostled by a crowd and had fallen over. Our speeder arrived around three minutes later. The Senator ordered Versé to cancel the rest of her appointments and then we came down here to talk to you. It was about twenty minutes until you arrived. Nothing else happened," Cordé finished, meeting my eyes steadily.

I gave her a brief smile. Her first attempt at delivering the report had been jerky and stammered. This time she sounded like the professional she was. The information, though, remained the same.

"Dormé, go," I ordered.

Dormé stopped wearing a hole in my carpet and immediately came to attention.

She put her hands behind her back, met my gaze and calmly repeated her report.

"The Senator had a lunch meeting with all the leaders of the opposition at the restaurant Carlotta Mein's. They spoke for around an hour, sharing and collaborating on their plan to defeat the act. Senators began to leave two or three at a time after about an hour. Senator Amidala stayed the latest in order to finish her lunch. She was alone at the table for about fifteen minutes, which is how long it took for her to finish eating. Cordé went to pay the bill at the hostess stand. I commed the chauffeur to inform him that we were on our way to the pick-up point. He said that he would be there when we arrived.

"The Senator and I took the West exit, and came out on the skywalk just to the East of Skylane RC 55-K. We walked along the skylane to the North and then turned left, walking down the skywalk that would take us to Winyyetea Court. This, of course, was where the arranged pick-up point was. The Court was empty, as it usually is. The Senator and I walked over to a bench that was near the open air located to the south of Skylane RD 56-J. As I said, that was where the driver was supposed to pick us up.

"It took us about five minutes to reach the Court. The skylane was completely empty—there were no speeders on it. Thinking that the chauffer was merely running a little late, we waited. Ordinarily we sit on the bench while waiting in Winyyetea Court. Today we did not as someone had spilled food on it. Instead, we waited near the open air between the court and the skyways. I was facing the court and the Senator was standing to my right, trying to locate my apartment based on the clues I was giving her. It's a game we sometimes play to pass the time.

"I heard a noise like a blaster bolt to my left, so I moved in front of the Senator and looked that way. I saw a small figure in a maroon flight suit crouched behind one of the benches. I pulled my blaster, shouted a warning and the figure started flee. That was when the Senator shouted for me to get down and pushed me to the ground. I hit my head and briefly blacked out. When I came to, the Senator was kneeling over me and I noticed that her hands were scratched and burned. The Senator pulled me to my feet and inquired whether I was okay. That was when Cordé ran off of the Skywalk and into the Court with her blaster drawn. She asked if we were okay. The Senator told us to tell the chauffeur that we had been jostled by a crowd and fell, but that nothing serious had happened. The speeder arrived a minute or two later. It took us about a quarter of an hour to arrive back at the apartment building. The Senator immediately led us to your office, picked your lock and asked us not to say anything until you came back. You arrived about fifteen minutes after us." Dormé let out a shaky breath and shook her head before putting it in her hands. "I am so sorry, milady," she said, her voice muffled by her hands "I should have—"

"It's not your fault, Dormé," Padmé said sharply. "There was nothing you could have done. Is it my turn again?" she asked, her eyes hard.

I nodded. Dormé's second report was nearly identical to her first, as long as I ignored the way her hands and voice had trembled this time through.

"I had a lunch meeting with other members of the opposition," Padmé began. "Thanks to your meddling, I was the last to leave Carlotta Mein's. Cordé went to pay while Dormé called Quivi to let him know that we would be ready to be picked up soon. Dormé walked with me to Winyyetea Court, which was where Quivi was to pick us up. We stood at the edge, near the open air between Skylane RD 56-J and the Court. We both had our back to the skylane and we were playing a game to pass the time. A strange noise caught Dormé's attention. While she was clearing the area, I looked at the skylane. That was when I noticed that a speeder had lost control and was heading towards us. I told Dormé to get down. I was worried that she wouldn't react in time, so I pushed her down as I dropped to the ground. I accidentally knocked her unconscious. Luckily, the speeder regained control before it actually reached the Court. So I checked Dormé to see if she was feeling alright. That was when Cordé arrived. Both Dormé and Cordé looked very worried. I was afraid if I mentioned the speeder they would become understandably upset and not let me finish explaining that it had been an accident and that the speeder hadn't ended up coming that near to us. To keep everything simple, I told both of them to tell Quivi that there had been a crowd and Dormé and I had fallen. Then we came back here and—" Padmé broke off uncomfortably, just like she had the first time she'd given her side of the story. "Well."

I stared at her.

She met my eyes a little defiantly. But she didn't look nearly angry enough.

I sighed.

"Okay. Well. Looks like a case of overreaction." Dormé made a small noise of protest. I ignored her and continued, "And a suspicious person." Dormé appeared slightly mollified. Rubbing my forehead in an attempt to stave off my impending headache, I said, "Um… Cordé, it sounds like you got a pretty good look at the person running away from the Court. Why don't you go to the security console and start trying to figure out who it could have been or what could have happened? Dormé, you better help Versé. There is not a chance in the galaxy she's going to be able to reschedule all of today's appointments on her own."

Cordé and Dormé stared at me for a moment.

I stiffly clamored to my feet and then gestured at the door.

"What about the Senator?" Dormé asked quietly.

"I have tea around here somewhere," I shrugged. "And I'm sure she has some correspondence she can catch up on while in my office."

Cordé and Dormé continued to hover in my office, shifting their feet and exchanging hesitant glances.

I raised my eyebrows.

They immediately headed out the door, shutting it behind them.

I glanced at Padmé as she raised a trembling hand to swipe her hair off her forehead.

I sighed and trudged over to her.

"Sorry for sniping at you about the food," I said as I hoisted myself up onto my desk, sitting cross legged on top of my records and correspondence. "You're not acting like a five year old and I didn't want to embarrass you in front of any of the other Senators at the restaurant. I just worry about you. And making sure you eat is one of the few things I can sort of control."

Padmé shook her head. "I know. I'm sorry, too. I didn't really mind staying to finish my lunch. It wasn't embarrassing. I just—" she let out a very shaky breath.

"Want to tell me what really happened?"

Padmé froze. Then, she let out a dismal laugh.

"Am I that obvious?" she asked ruefully.

I shrugged. "Didn't think you'd ensconce yourself in my office or let all of your meetings be cancelled just because someone ran away when Dormé yelled at them."

Padmé pulled her legs up onto the chair, wrapped her arms around them and absently picked at the fabric of her dress.

I leaned back on my hands and looked at her.

"The—the speeder," Padmé began haltingly. "The speeder didn't—It didn't regain control. It flew directly over me—I could—" Padmé paused, took a deep breath and then continued, "I could feel the heat of the engine above me. Then it flew over Dormé. But—but part of the engine caught on Dormé's cloak. I was afraid that it was going to drag her along after it but, luckily, the fabric ripped just as the driver regained control and rejoined the Skylane." She paused and then quietly said, "I thought we were going to die, Sabé."

I stared at her for a very long time. She began to nervously worry at one of the holes in her dress, determinedly not meeting my eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want to give up on the Military Creation Act and instead focus on transport safety in metropolitan areas?"

Padmé chuckled, her gaze slowly rising to meet mine.

I gave her a wry smile. "You think I'm joking. I assure you, I am quite serious."

"Yes, Sabé," Padmé smiled slightly. "I am certain I want to focus on the Military Creation Act instead of transport safety in metropolitan areas."

"Is that because you think the Military Creation Act is really important or because you don't think your two transport related accidents were all that accidental?" I asked.

She winced, her smile fading away.

"I am not certain," she said in a small voice.

"You're not certain the Military Creation Act is important or—"

She immediately shot me a look of utmost irritation. "For the thousandth time, Sabé, if the Military Creation Act is passed, it could be the beginning of the end of the Republic as we know it! We do not need an_ army_ to engage the Separatists! What we need is—" She cut herself off from what was sure to be an impassioned rant and instead just glared at me.

We had already had this conversation multiple times. I had yet to convince her that maybe she shouldn't be involved in the Military Creation Act. I didn't think I ever would, but that didn't mean I was about to give up on trying.

"So you were talking about the possibly-but-also-possibly-not accidents?" I prompted her once I had enough of her silent glaring.

"Of course I was," she snapped.

"Any reason you didn't want to share your suspicions with the others?"

"Dormé would hover even more than she already does and Cordé would drive both herself and me mad with her silent worrying. Besides, I am not certain that they weren't merely unfortunate accidents. And Dormé and Cordé are still new enough that they are prone to overreactions. You know that, Sabé!" Padmé huffed, still annoyed at me for forcing her to defend her beloved opposition to the Military Creation Act.

I sighed and rubbed at my forehead. I probably should have known better than to bring the Creation Act into things when Padmé was afraid. Padmé didn't like being afraid and had something of a gift for turning her fear into anger. And I had just given her the perfect excuse.

"Do you want any tea?" I asked.

Padmé blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Tea," I repeated as I swung off the table and began to rummage around in my desk drawers. "I'm making some for myself. Do you want any?"

"I—Yes, thank you."

By the time I found my teapot, and rustled up some tea for the pair of us, she had calmed down enough that talking to her once again had a chance of being productive.

"So," I began as Padmé and I sat next to each other on my office floor, both sipping our tea, "Do you want to start off talking about our next step from here or should we start off with some fun catch-up gossip and then casually segue into talking about our next step?"

She thought about it for a moment. Then, "We should talk about our next step first. That way you won't be planning out how to convince me your plan is best while we're supposed to be gossiping."

I grinned at her. "Sounds good to me. You first or me?"

"You."

"Great. Well, I think that I have a brilliant idea."

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "You think all of your ideas are brilliant."

"That's because all of my ideas _are _brilliant," I retorted loftily.

Padmé and I lasted all of two seconds before we started snickering.

Once we stopped, I rolled my eyes and said, "In all seriousness. Typho is about to hire new guards. He's starting to go through the applications now. We have enough in the security budget that we could probably double the amount we were originally planning on hiring and tell everyone that they were hired on a 'trial basis' or something. We can have a ridiculous amount of guards with you at all times—which, before you say anything, will be just as irritating to me as it will be to you, so don't even think about whining—and say that we're trying to see who's the best fit, or something silly like that. Then, you'll have a ton of extra protection without anyone having to know why. I can start some independent research into the speeder and the transport speeder and see if I can turn up any connections or leads on either of the drivers. If nothing shows up and nothing happens, we'll let go of all the extra guards and no will be any wiser. If something does show up… well, we can take it from there."

Padmé frowned and thought it over.

For having come up with the plan while searching for my teapot, I thought it was pretty good. Some fine-tuning would probably be in order, but it seemed pretty solid to me.

"It makes sense, but…" Padmé hesitated and then said in rush, "Both of us hate having a lot of guards. Why would we bring this on ourselves?"

I frowned at her.

And the debate began.

By the time it finished, we had emptied the tea pot, each of us downing about three cups of tea, and had taken multiple trips to the fresher. However, Padmé had reluctantly agreed to my plan and I had reluctantly agreed to her conditions and to a few changes.

"Now," I said, placing my tea cup on the ground with some force, "we can have a fun conversation. Has Eirtaé had a chance to bring you up to date on the wedding plans yet?"

And, with that, we easily slipped out of our roles as senator and handmaiden and into our much more enjoyable roles of best friends.

**Expected Update Time: July 25th, 2013 (I forgot about this the first time I posted the chapter! Whoops!)**


	14. Argue

_To Die for the Republic_

_Part II: In Which Sabé is Alive_

Chapter 6: Argue

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin looked up from his menu with some annoyance. "Little? I'm more than a head taller than you are."

I waved my hand at him as I slid into the red checkered booth across from him. "Pah. Physical size means nothing. I'm bigger than you in every way that counts."

He stared at me. "What ways?"

Floundering for a reply, I instead adopted my most superior look. "You wouldn't understand them, I'm sure."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. Sure."

"So," I said, picking up my menu and giving it a cursory glance before setting it back down. "Is Obi-Wan coming today or is he busy again?"

"He's going to be late, if he makes it at all," Anakin answered. "Can Padmé come?"

I shook my head. "No. She's trying to get away; really she is, but..."

Anakin slumped. "She's busy."

I shrugged a little bit uncomfortably. Anakin always asked about Padmé and I never knew what to say.

Since Padmé had been appointed Senator and we had started to spend most of our year on Coruscant, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padmé and I attempted to go out to eat at least once a month. We always failed.

Actually, we'd succeeded three or four times but I wasn't sure they even counted as successes.

Padmé had only been able to get away from her duties once and, on that occasion, Anakin had been sick and unable to come. The other two times we'd succeeded in meeting up, it had not been all of us. In fact, it had just been me eating with Anakin and then just me eating with Obi-Wan. Everyone else had been unable to make it. Between Anakin and Obi-Wan's missions, Padmé's senatorial responsibilities, my handmaiden duties and my university work, it was practically impossible to find a time when all of us were available to meet up. I thought Padmé and Obi-Wan may have succeeded one other time when I had been stuck in class, but I wasn't sure. And I definitely wasn't going to tell Anakin that.

Anakin sighed at my news. But, after a moment, he rallied.

"Now's a good time to bring this up, then." He suddenly became more serious than I had seen in quite some time.

I bit my lip and absentmindedly opened my menu again, despite the fact that I always ordered the same thing. I started to flip to the second page but halfway through changed my mind. I let the menu fall back open to the first page, worrying the corner of the menu between my fingers.

"If this is about the holopic of the flying—" Before I could finish changing the subject to our strange holopic contest, he interrupted me.

"This is about the dreams you told me about. Back when you were on Coruscant the second time."

I winced. I had been afraid this was going to happen.

"You're twenty-five," Anakin told me.

"You're nineteen," I retorted.

I did not want to have this conversation.

At all.

"And Padmé is leading the opposition to the Military Creation Act," Anakin continued, ignoring me.

"And you're a Jedi padawan. Any other obvious things you want to point out?" I asked a little scathingly. I was desperately trying to buy some time. Provoking Anakin was usually the best way to get him off subject.

However, Anakin was clearly starting to learn my tricks, as he merely shot me a dirty look before continuing. "You said that you were going to die when you were twenty-five because of a Military Act that Padmé was against."

I shut my eyes and put my head in my hands.

"Don't you think—" Anakin began

"Hello! Welcome to Orboo, makers of the finest luncheons this side of Skylane AQ 14-Z! Can I get you two any drinks today?"

I lifted my head from my hands to see that a strangely perky service droid had arrived at our table.

I had never been so happy to see a droid in my life.

"Hello!" I gave it a wide, relieved grin. "You most certainly can. I would like a cup of a caf and some water, if you don't mind."

Anakin's eyes narrowed, but he nonetheless turned to the droid. "A large blue milk. And we're ready to order."

"Wonderful to hear! What delicious luncheons would you like to order today?" I had no doubt that the droid would have been bouncing on its feet in excitement if it had been sentient.

"The scalefish filet sandwich with a side of well-done wedges," Anakin quickly ordered.

I stared at the first page of the menu, trying to look thoughtful. "Hmm…"

Maybe if I stalled long enough, Anakin would forget what we were talking about and let me change the subject.

"Sabé?" Anakin raised his eyebrows at me. "Aren't you just going to order your usual?"

Or Anakin could get impatient and completely ruin my plan. I supposed that could happen, too.

"I guess," I sighed. "I'll have the crunchy zoochberry salad with crispy kibi strips."

"Excellent choices! I'll tell the cook and be back with your drinks in a flash!" the perky droid buzzed away.

"Anyway," Anakin turned back to me the moment it left. "Don't you think it's strange how similar everything is to your dream?" Anakin stared at me expectantly.

I didn't say anything.

I'd really been trying very hard to not think about this. At all. Ever. Aside, of course, from when I half-heartedly tried to get Padmé to focus on something besides the Military Creation Act.

Because, really, I was not in any way, shape or form ready to handle something like this. Just having the thought flit across my mind made my stomach roll.

I had enough things to worry about without considering my (possibly) upcoming demise. Besides, I reminded myself, I had adopted the same avoidance policy when it had come to the last assassination attempt I'd had to dodge and that had turned out just fine. Well, aside from the weeks spent in a Coruscanti medcenter. But, really, I was still breathing and that was the important part, wasn't it?

"Here you are!" the droid zipped back over, our drinks balanced on the arm that resembled a serving tray. "The large blue milk, the caf and the water! And your fabulous luncheons will be ready for you any moment, I'm sure!" The service droid zoomed off.

I quickly grabbed my cup of caf and began to down it, ignoring the way it burned my tongue and throat.

Anakin ignored his drink entirely. His gaze burned into me even as I continued to gulp down my caf. "Look, I've been thinking about your dream for a while now, so I looked in the archives. I found some things."

Slowly, I returned my cup to the table.

"Do we really have to talk about this?" I rolled the warm cup between my hands carefully, watching the steam spiral into the air as the black liquid gently rolled back and forth inside the white cup.

"Yes," said Anakin mulishly. "We're not just waiting for your dream to happen, Sabé. You're not going to die. You're _not._ We're going to stop your dream from happening. That's why I researched. So we can stop your dream. I found out that a couple hundred years ago, a young man had a dream like yours. The dream was of an old woman telling him about a horrible war that the young man had to stop. The man blew up a starship and when the Jedi tracked him down to bring him to justice, he said that he had done it to save the galaxy and that he should get a reward for what he did, because he'd stopped a horrible war."

My eyes snapped away from the steam and locked onto Anakin. "He sounds like he was suffering from some mental health problems. Are you trying to tell me I'm insane?"

Where was that droid our food? Shouldn't it be done by now? And how was any of this any of Anakin's business to begin with? Just because I'd told him about my dreams, didn't mean he suddenly had a right to—to—well, he didn't have the right, was the point! He was meddling with things I had not asked him to meddle with!

"No. I'm not saying you're insane, Sabé," Anakin huffed. "I'm saying that this has happened before and—"

"No, you're saying that some poor man took one of his dreams literally and killed a whole bunch of people because of it. And you're comparing me to him," I interrupted flatly.

"I am not—"

"Look, Anakin, I appreciate your concern. But my dreams and how I'm handling them are none of your business."

"Handling them? You're not _handling_ them, Sabé! You're acting like they don't exist. You—"

"I am asking you to leave this be, Anakin."

"Leave this be? You might die, Sabé! How can I—"

"I am well aware of what the person in my dreams said, Anakin. Now, please, drop it."

"I am not going to ignore this! Just because you're afraid of—"

"I said—"

"Will you let me finish?" Anakin roared. The moment he finished shouting, he slammed his mouth shut, pressing his lips together so tightly that they started to turn white at the edges.

The entire restaurant froze. The four children of the Rodian couple sitting at the booth across the way stared at us, their mouths open and eyes wide. The sound of one fork clattering to a table nearly halfway across the restaurant suddenly seemed deafening. For the first time since entering Orboo, I noticed the crackly music floating from the speakers in the ceiling. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to be staring at us.

My cheeks burned and I sunk down into my seat, wishing futilely that I had worn a red checkered dress to better match the booth. It would have been much easier to disappear that way.

Anakin seemed to share none of my embarrassment, though. His eyes were narrowed into slits and he looked irritated, biting off, "Sorry to interrupt," to the rest of the customers. He did not look the slightest bit sorry.

"Alrighty then!" the perky droid's mechanical voice was the loudest thing in the room. It sped over to us, carrying our meals. "Your no doubt delectable luncheons have been prepared and are ready for you to enjoy! Here is the scalefish filet sandwich with a side of well-done wedges—" the droid slid the silver platter onto the table in front of Anakin, "—and the crunchy zoochberry salad with crispy kibi strips." It placed the blue salad bowl in front of me with a clatter. "Enjoy!" The droid sped off.

As if the droid delivering our food was some kind of cue, everyone in the restaurant slowly began to return to their own lunches. Conversation began to buzz around us, gradually growing loud enough to once again drown out the restaurant's background music.

Anakin was still breathing hard through his nose, his hands clenched tightly together on the table.

I forced myself to stop sinking into the booth. Instead, I leaned across the table towards him. I held my hands out in a placating gesture. "I have thought about it, Anakin. A lot." That may have been stretching the truth a bit (well, more than a bit), but Anakin didn't need to know that. "And my best option is just to do what the girl who burned suggested. To fall off the ship. Now, please. Let's change the subject."

Anakin glared at me. "I don't—"

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

My head snapped to the side to see Obi-Wan standing in front of our table.

"Obi-Wan!" I beamed at him. That man's timing was nearly as perfect as the service droid's. "Anakin said you wouldn't be able to make it until later!"

"My meeting finished earlier than I expected." Obi-Wan gestured at my side of the booth. "May I?"

"Oh, of course!" I hastily slid over to make room.

Anakin's eyes once again narrowed into slits as he watched Obi-Wan sit down next to me.

I continued to grin widely.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, what was your meeting about?"

"Nothing terribly exciting. We were merely discussing the arrest of one Willie Hawa, formerly employed by the Coruscant Crumbly Café." He gave me a dry look. "Perhaps you're familiar with him."

"You did arrest him, then?" I asked.

"He let slip a few things during questioning," Obi-Wan informed me. "He'll be going to trial for three counts of sabotage of Jedi property sometime next month."

With that, Obi-Wan and I fell into easy conversation about Willie as well as the unclassified things that he and Anakin had been up to recently.

Anakin spent the entire conversation scowling at me, not saying a word.

I never should have told him about my dreams.

Finally, Anakin lost his patience and interrupted. "Aren't you going to tell Obi-Wan what we were talking about?"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose at the venom in Anakin's voice.

"Well…" I quickly shoved a forkful of salad into my mouth. My mind raced and I chewed as slowly as I could in order to buy myself some time. I finally landed on a viable topic just as I swallowed. "I had wanted to talk to Anakin about my classes at the university and see if he had any ideas about what I should do with my life."

"Oh, yes. I forgot that you have to decide on a career by the end of the semester. You aren't having much luck, I take it?" Obi-Wan asked, ignoring his furiously spluttering padawan.

I snorted. "Haven't really had much time to think about it, to be honest. With Eirtaé getting married, the vote on the Military Creation Act coming up and also having my general classes, I've been too busy to think it through, really. Anakin's always been a good sounding board," I added, hoping the offhand compliment might help ease Anakin back into the conversation. "I was hoping maybe he'd have some good ideas, because I certainly don't!" I laughed, but even to my own ears it sounded soft and a little hollow

The more I thought about my argument with Anakin, the more my stomach twisted in on itself. I hated arguments. And I didn't want Anakin to be mad at me; I just didn't want him to talk about my dreams. Maybe, I thought hopefully, if the rest of the lunch went well, he wouldn't be angry with me anymore.

"Have you any ideas on the general direction you want to take?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Not a one. All I know is that I don't want to go into the security field. Which doesn't really narrow things down much," I said a little ruefully.

Anakin's glare softened the slightest of bits.

As Obi-Wan and I continued to discuss my career options, I made sure to point comments in Anakin's direction, so that he'd still feel involved. Obi-Wan sent the occasional disapproving look in his padawan's direction.

The longer Obi-Wan and I spoke—the topic of conversation shifting and morphing with ease, the way it always did when Obi-Wan and I talked—the more Anakin's anger seemed to dissipate until, finally, he joined in.

By the time we had to go our separate ways, Anakin seemed to have completely forgotten our earlier argument. He and Obi-Wan bid me a cheerful good-bye before heading towards the Jedi Temple.

I watched them go. The moment they were out of sight, my smile slipped right off my face. My head was pounding and my heart felt like it was hanging out somewhere around my stomach. All I wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep for a thousand years.

Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. I still had to dig up information about the Padmé's two suspicious speeder accidents. Resisting the urge to sigh loudly, I began to trudge towards the nearest law enforcement office. Time to ignore my headache while attempting to wheedle more information from uncommunicative peace officers.

I was _so_ looking forward to this.

**Expected Update Time: August 22nd, 2013**


End file.
